 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:41:40 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 47665
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Johannes Strasse
[time] => 2004-05-15 16:58:01
[hometext] => Its a short story btw. oddness and insanity within, please tell me what its about.
[bodytext] => A tittle less expressions more packe with less words than an iminomical retourgé but the sinue shed of ganrenous muscule aslew the victims rambid arm, slithering down in a pool of flatulantic juices. decompostion is a fascinating thing. STOP. Harbringers of doom rode through here, twisting the throttle of the power drive, the ride, driven became more beacme more, no more kill no more kill no more kill, love, passion, but they knew, the very ascondancy of the fettlied corrominunial wrenacially, repondered within the darkest inhosterian of the riders decrepid corum. here was the murderee and murder-er. blood stained knife -whispers- blood blood "remeber bill" distant voices spoke "your dead!" WHAT, THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE But was it supposed to? a story I tell about a g-i-r-l MURDERED by bikers, and left to rot but. is it more artistic than that? probibly, thats why this made no sensE. But the police found the body And the people behind it where sentenced Where is the story in that? IN your MIND sir! Ah. but what of....... the girl, she was raped, and left for dead. a story? no, just an endless provicational intertudanal deception of the nerval recptoral world. so whom am I speaking to now? Its clever, did you know Me? Yes, one of you Who me? Yes, we have made a story OF the BONES of THAT dead GIRL and she died? painfully in fear, and sadness the worst possible waY. so then we must look toward the clueS. Wait there were missing somthing The stories middlE? Ah so The police attended to scene, the burnt house, put it self out of the inferno that was designed to eradicate the evidence, withered away and did nothing, her body, left in a darkened room at the back of the wooden building, slew into a bathroom, curled in on itself, covered in maggots and a thin oily film which looked as if the glaze from petrol, and blood up the walls, the blood IN A HAND PRINT showing the struggle? yes. Ah.The officer burst through the door. .ENd MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS MATHS [comments] => 1 [counter] => 157 [topic] => 68 [informant] => 01_zanzebar [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fictional )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com