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Array
(
[sid] => 44693
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Dead Man Walking.
[time] => 2004-04-25 00:27:19
[hometext] => Wonder what he feels?
[bodytext] => Dead man walking. He is to be executed within the next few minutes. They haul him to his deathbed, where he will be beheaded. Six feet of sinful bones, Covered by clammy skin, Draped in hot sweat, Sweat of thy sin. Ahead upon his periphery, Lay the pathway to hell, A carpet to thy deathbed, The conclusion of his well. Walks forth in sloth and torpor, Full of dread and shame. Insouciant to distant voices, Insouciant to his fame. The air around him still, Still as an aged statue; As the grass that gyrated a solitary stone, Was depressed at it’s lost of virtue. A stone emblazoned by the palms of Satan; Guardian of sordid wrath. A pearl in its personal aggregates, Sculptured to be a brat. Hence thy stone will decease, Thy Satan will weep. Both at thy lost of wrath, And for a stone he can no longer keep. Satan’s pear will mutter: ‘What wrong have I done thee in wrath, To be hauled into thy arms of Mara? Which being would bother to cosset, A soul with Satan’s aura? And I pray: ‘Devoured by thy sea of depravity, Swept to thy shores of ailing sand, Secluded by amiable society, And forever banned. Sculptor of sinister statures, God to wretched entity, Spare this soul of diminishing coherence, And let it rest in eternal clarity’! THIVANKA [comments] => 7 [counter] => 195 [topic] => 68 [informant] => Thivanka [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fictional )
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