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Array
(
[sid] => 69750
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Life...As It Is
[time] => 2004-11-01 20:53:14
[hometext] => I guess that you could say that this is my masterwork. I worked a long time on this poem. This poem basically depicts life from a child to teenager to death. I could go into detail but i want the reader to decide for themselves what the poem means.
[bodytext] => We wonder through the journey of life with false hope and admiration not knowing what lies ahead. We are feed the ways of life through the steady hands of older generations. The easy ways of our infant era soon disappear exposing the youthful adolescent age of entertainment. Nine to Five consumed with friendships and the restless hours of play. Our exhausted bodies give in to the heavy restraints of sleep. Spinning through rapid eye movement full of hope, freedom, sunshine and an array of careless events. So easy were these times yet to be extinguished by the ugly head of our teenage experience. Education soon transforms from blocks to equations. The ugly circle of the social aspect spreads like a plaque through the many different bodies that must accept it. It is slowly revealed to some the antidote for this mysterious disease. The smell of something to come lures in the air over the three years of unknown despair. A higher school stands tall in the blank faces of these so-called fresh men. Looking down the long four-year rode, many think of bad or good. Some are meet with the daunting task of belonging to the subspecies whose eyes peer down on the docile and fearful. Taking advantage of the weak and unwilling without a step towards similar ground. Surprise attacks satisfy the ranking that must be meet. An equivalent associated body forms into the voice that takes its spot above the rest. Cold shoulders are thrust towards the untouchables. Conversations between normal and popular are met with unwanted blank stares set to disapprove and expose positions. A steady clash is present through out fueled by ones desperation and the others carelessness. Desperation is noticed by the layers of reality concealed with shadowed eyes and alternative skin. Wanting eyes stare at this false expression of beauty and indulgence. Swiftly shifting themself’s into the dark corner lit only by flawless lights. Those choosing to avoid the scarlet lettermen resign in the middle between rich and poor. These souls remain clean and unused. Rare are these spotless decendents in this time of immense epidemic. Given the antidote, they survive only to be presented with the stairs that lead to happiness or sadness, wealthy or underprivileged, life or DEATH. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 153 [topic] => 21 [informant] => TheTangibleGhost [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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