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Array
(
[sid] => 50610
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => General Poetry, Commanding You
[time] => 2004-06-06 04:41:35
[hometext] => Poetry I thought up meditating again. try to understand the meaning and not the words
[bodytext] => The Screens change Loose cannons Spawned out from acorns Born over trees Laid down is the track Sleepers of oak Runnin the railroad Laying the pollution As a train herds into my scene As a devil breaks my dream We all love flake in our ice scre.... hearts Thrifty records we all survive No-where to run No-where to hide Seventy is the number of reasons sum-ounted so far and Two Thousend And Four is the year of this ramble The Screen is made of glass Transparent As a soul Of a bastard-child Let your screen be cloudy Hasten with haze and mystery As the books we write with our lives Become more linear with each passing day Banish your thoughts to the corner of your mind, it has no use here No you don’t need our help if your one of us As they are what the railroad did to our tree's And destroyed them to histories blasphemy We wake for the new world Because the thought of the old one was too hard to bear As the burden we make ourselves Is our Pilgrims Progress Is our Book Made from the paper of dead trees ... Is your life. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 173 [topic] => 43 [informant] => 01_zanzebar [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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