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Array
(
[sid] => 137445
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => try
[time] => 2007-09-22 06:27:24
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The culmination of all efforts, and the justice for all sins, is conveyed and reflected with my sympathy. In a written confession, freely given, unprovoked, uncoerced, an account is presented. First, statements suggest, sometime in the past, years ago, more so, then ever before, even now. Lived a legend. With him, existed a truth, instead, a lie was espoused, spoken to ordinary ears, digested through hungry mouths. Trickled from a dirty spout, carnivorously plowed, the fields of yesterday, frolicking fancifully, in exposing garb, not socially allowed. Summarized and bound, the book is read, the chord has strung, the smoke will wither, the lions den left open, a beast has escaped, running. Circling vultures, overhead, the sky now shadows a killer, the darkness protects a face, an elaborate scheme, to achieve success, to commiserate, too late, in essence a waste. In the middle, hidden in-between, are the common sense notions few have observed, most notably heard, the dying yelp of the last humming bird, as the cosmic surge, ignites an auspicious rendition, from fact to fiction, heroes enslave villains, captive, held by rope, so absurd, gagged with soap, cleaned and scrubbed, with brills and bleach, unleashed, recycled sheets, garden variety leach, mud hungry teeth, a dog bites through its leash. Cold showers on warm mornings the waters plunge to awake soul from the dead. Possibly depressed, the drops trickle in slow intervals, and falls flat and firm on the base of the head. The brain cavity thus disrupted by feelings of needles inserted to string on a common thread. Collapsing on the sidewalk, busting teeth, leaves spitting spit, a morbid disgusting color red. The legend approaches, he claims to have answers to questions nobody has asked. A child flees to the open, chased by dreams of dying trees, of thirst and pain, of calm and chaos, in a world with which there is no sun to bask, no clouds to collect the rain, all is not the same. Used are the excuses offered for the misusages of human nuances, to prove a point- private rooms for lap- dances, a blue moon for new romances, staying close, an opposing force, knocking down the front door, backdoor closed of course. He leaves in relative hastiness, he returns on his horse. The stretching on an imagination leaves a flimsy fold in the alteration of sequences in events as they were intended to unfold. Keeping clothed, warmed then cold, served poison with buttered toast, spoonfuls of fruits, nuts and berried prunes, as smoke enhances the trip, spun from the consumed mushroom, a plush living-room, dry walled and carpeted cartoons, cool dudes, bad asses, nude nurses wearing only sunglasses, perturbed and unnerved his neighbors complain in huddled masses, adored, then ignored, a picture is plastered, a safety hazard, take care not to upset the Master. Mind, your own business, a moment of awkwardness presides with authority on attaining a memory of bliss, sorely missed, (fakers and optimists), the people who left with a kiss. _____________ ________ [comments] => 2 [counter] => 204 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Jyssvw [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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