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Array
(
[sid] => 147902
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My 36th year with pants on.
[time] => 2009-02-10 18:08:55
[hometext] => Birthday poems are pesonal reflections so I really don't know why I'm posting it. Enjoy if you can.
[bodytext] => My 36th year with pants on. I dig my own grave. I know right from wrong I've felt how it is to be weak & how strong Its one short life & all save one I'll dig my own grave and lie in it long. Dreaming the zodiac round With gifts and tinsle & silly sound, Movement shall only draw you ever Closer to the ground. The futures a fine thing A bower birds diamond ring The present is a happier place With brass and coppper on your face. Keep the diamond I'll take the brass. Yours will be heavens kingdom While I'm kicked out on me arse, Have it its yours. A pretty shadow of what is A victim of whats shallow, whats sallow whats his. I'll watch it all from the sun on my stool as like a fool Alcohol drips from my pours and pools. Ideas you cherrish are not the ones I relish, Homes and Gnomes and shire sure Is the selfish doors I'll visit, Of course all will be locked & passed with eye sharp, sallow and develish. Its a sweet bubble that future fen I'll take trouble and its multiple ken. Viscious cold is the winters night, Thats when I'll sleep snug in the grave I dug, I keep. I dig my own grave. & be he master or slave The rabble vulgar will mock Even if the ground I save be rock I'll dig my own grave and watch you all rot. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 226 [topic] => 64 [informant] => incognito_bombastus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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