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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:09:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 159302
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Fissures
[time] => 2010-04-27 21:58:39
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => These old hands I see before me seem so unreal, so misplaced… Plate tectonics crash and settle creating mountains and fissures on once vast plains… And all this time the flames rage on like it does not burn on fuel but on infinity itself, consciousness of its fourth dimension a myth, a fairytale nobody talks about, everyone downplays… But one day the sheep overheard the shepherd saying all wolves are but sheep in costume and the sheep looked down and saw nothing but white cotton where a wolf’s pelt existed he could have put his hand on fire for… And the seed is no more: germination is complete and leaves start to grow but the sad stubborn stem rejects light like water a fire… but what is seen cannot be unseen and as I look at these old hands before me I know I will see them for ever… never shall the plains give way to mountains never shall the sheep wear a wolf’s pelt again never shat the plant feed on its seed, but now on common light… … now the fire burns on a candlestick on an old shelf, long forgotten, by every other shelf and every other blind candle trying to forget its fiery past and its long gone fuel. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 118 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Obnoxious_Bread [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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