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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:11:47 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 55067
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY DEAR
[time] => 2004-07-06 21:31:01
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Mandolin of stringed Black and White TV Candelabras of light wooden windows Chairs in woven Persian rugs Typewriter of a type that’s frozen. Books, binding the written pages Of words that speak into the air That you’ve never been able to bind and see Because of the sodden Olden Hallows. That rapture with the Old taunty mugs Because they were not wisely chosen From the pages of haunty by gone ages Do you understand my dear? Strange land, really don’t care Black sand, Canary Birds in cages Nor about the sacks she’s woven You only sleep with Jacks bed bugs And keep strange weird bed fellows And you never cared if there were Three Do you understand my dear? I’d cry a loud cry of a whimp Whined and barked the truth You’d sleep with Jacks Old taunty mugs And cry out foul, now that’s uncouth. © Robert Kilpatrick [comments] => 2 [counter] => 162 [topic] => 22 [informant] => robertkilpatrick [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
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