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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 14:35:37 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 43504
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cyanide
[time] => 2004-04-16 10:56:55
[hometext] => Yes, It really is about nothing.
[bodytext] => I find these lines in symmetry with rhyming verses and meters but then I write off the page and look for other features. They hide inside the double o's and underneath the single r's and roll off the minstrels tounge when spoken under shining stars. As if to say that they had meaning and they were more than words and letters but if I ask you would you tell me that I could do much better? I sometimes wish that I could write with portable phrases I place here and there and with more potable substances so you can digest it without any error. I try not to think of ending such things as novels and dreams and storys of woe and as I come to wake from a thought I try to think not of where I must go. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Funny_Pants [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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