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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:27:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 53495
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Specimen
[time] => 2004-06-24 11:41:43
[hometext] => Written to accompany a painting by a friend on their bedroom wall of an angel pinned down like a moth on a specimen board.
[bodytext] => A being formed of the very essence of life Gazed down at shadowy blankness upon its demise Pondering its quietus by a man-forged knife Its very progeny had just begun to materialise When it had struck excitedly at a shimmer in the sky Acting not with mind but with avaricious eyes Taking for their simple delight and to classify Thinking it makes them better, more learned and wise “Oh how interesting is our collection of pretty dead things!” Unaware, for they do not care, as they in fascination stare That in pinning down in a display creatures of wisdom and wings They are gradually rendering the Earth barren and bare So with its dying breath the angel turned up its weeping head and cried “Man, why art thou so wholly consumed by thy infernal pride!” [comments] => 3 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 30 [informant] => Max [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => PoemsonBeauty )
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