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Array
(
[sid] => 126065
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => ice
[time] => 2006-09-22 07:26:05
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The outside world holds everything in Staring at four bare white walls The sun, trees, flowers with their roots firmly planted in the soil- The bustle of the shops, the cars, busses and cyclists Make for an escape from inner peace Where all is cast aside, castigated, in the hopes of finding the escape Incidentally, all that is found, compounds the troubles Strengthens the idea that I am alone in a crowded hole Usurped is the pain, then the pleasures Where pain is often the most difficult to let go And pleasures become the sins binding one day to the next A big mouth spews nonsense- Where it would be better served remaining shut- Like in times of bewilderment and muted utterances As with all creatures, others, do not share the exact sense of living So they are indifferent to the set of conditions proposed by a sect of only happy folks Summarizations of lengthy plots Intricate in detail with obscure motivating factors- Compel a mass extinction of ordinary and mundane manners As they all seem to converge, only, when it never seems to matter If only, insight was perceived, prior to the imminent, slow approaching, Snail like, feet pounding on pavement, spiraling into the periphery It can all be seen from a rooftop perched higher then any other edifice Keener then its predecessor, it relies on the ability to change minds Those stubborn, in tenacity, with firm stances on issues resolved by crooked men When involved in creating change, no one is considered, but the dying age Somewhere in thought is an answer to the questions which were never asked ___________ _______________ [comments] => 0 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Mangos [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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