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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 01-June 11:34:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 139431
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A lady who belives he is worth less than a compass
[time] => 2007-12-28 07:36:11
[hometext] => A longer poem set in a restaurant the shape of the ladys hair
[bodytext] => "When I rest my elbow on this table I look extraordinarily like a compass and no one can suppass my accuracy when pointing north I am a woman with only a compasses worth" sitting back she declares "I am now pointless" The waves off the crown of her head punctuates her shoulders with an ant Her man friend to the deviant the lady who deviates to the sound of an ant "We sit here in a restaurant made of the richest of metals the mother of your hair your hair looks so much like its mother And we suck on her breasts together We are the amazing dear We are the point" [comments] => 0 [counter] => 166 [topic] => 74 [informant] => harmony [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => surreal )
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