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Array ( [sid] => 35166 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => At an Arm's Length [time] => 2004-02-16 00:59:17 [hometext] => This poem is not my usual style... let me know what you think... [bodytext] =>
At an Arm's Length


And the man in the alley
behind the faded blue dumpster
is looking for life,
looking for love

Where sweet only applies so sickeningly,
and needles are never used for sewing...
Where a home is never a house,
and the heart long decayed
under pretentious glances...



And the girl at her friend's house,
she in his bed,
he in her,
is looking for love
looking for life

Where to be touched is to be loved,
to be felt is to feel...
...I love you...
Where words have no meaning,
standing, shivering,
alone in the rain the next day...



And the boy walking through the shadows
down the hall to the holding cell
is looking for life
looking for love

Where life is measured
in grams, ounces, and pounds,
and crystal is not the girl next door...
Where a bloody form in the ditch
symbolizes power,
and sanity lies in the number of hits taken
and the number of hits carried out...



When, from an arms length,
you see these eyes,
you see yourself
too far away...
simplistically synonymous,

Only then will you find life...

[comments] => 3 [counter] => 236 [topic] => 21 [informant] => SensitiveSoAbused [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
At an Arm's Length

Contributed by SensitiveSoAbused on Monday, 16th February 2004 @ 12:59:17 AM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems




At an Arm's Length


And the man in the alley
behind the faded blue dumpster
is looking for life,
looking for love

Where sweet only applies so sickeningly,
and needles are never used for sewing...
Where a home is never a house,
and the heart long decayed
under pretentious glances...



And the girl at her friend's house,
she in his bed,
he in her,
is looking for love
looking for life

Where to be touched is to be loved,
to be felt is to feel...
...I love you...
Where words have no meaning,
standing, shivering,
alone in the rain the next day...



And the boy walking through the shadows
down the hall to the holding cell
is looking for life
looking for love

Where life is measured
in grams, ounces, and pounds,
and crystal is not the girl next door...
Where a bloody form in the ditch
symbolizes power,
and sanity lies in the number of hits taken
and the number of hits carried out...



When, from an arms length,
you see these eyes,
you see yourself
too far away...
simplistically synonymous,

Only then will you find life...





Copyright © SensitiveSoAbused ... [ 2004-02-16 00:59:17]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: At an Arm's Length (User Rating: 1 )
by emystar on Monday, 16th February 2004 @ 01:05:31 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Very good write. Shows compassion and understanding of others.
luv, huggs,
emy


Re: At an Arm's Length (User Rating: 0 )
by Former_Member on Monday, 16th February 2004 @ 05:44:38 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
OK if you are making refernces to me you could at least make it clear in the poem what exactly you are trying to portray me as, thanks. Nice poem.


Re: At an Arm's Length (User Rating: 1 )
by SensitiveSoAbused on Tuesday, 17th February 2004 @ 06:53:14 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
uh well i actually have no idea who you are... anonymous tends to give that impression... uh i was not making a portrayal of anyone in specific.. pm me and tell me who you are and why you think so...




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