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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:47:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 140587
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => AleX
[time] => 2008-02-24 12:13:14
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Mother, your womb of ten thousand lions shall nourish me; I'll be clothed in chlamys cape. Father, we shall never bond solely via alikeness; affinity where your wife lays with serpent men. Don't kiss me like a widow. I'll follow them from behind their heels like a corporate seeking for treasure; and on the forth day their heads will linger on the battle fields of Nicaea. We'll march on sparing neither man, woman nor child; your kingdom of dust reigns sublime. And we'll come in like a pack wolves; we here by wait for you Porus. Mother will cry if she dare sees me hurling my goblet. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 240 [topic] => 51 [informant] => SomeDude [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Event )
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