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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:25:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 88338
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => observation, 1
[time] => 2005-03-22 11:30:55
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => i see a child holding his mother’s hand and they’re waiting for a train. and i spent all night driving here trying to outrun the rain. so i’m sketching people in a notepad as they rush frantically through their lives, and i’m witnessing these businessmen kiss their wives goodbye. and there’s a clear absence of sympathy, as i see a man shove a child trying desperately to make his train. i briefly sketch his gnarled face as it appears to me, and i sketch the confused child, his eyes swelling with tears. and these are the people, ironically, who compose my life. these inconsiderate people are like grease to the gears that force my hand to keep drawing. they are a machine without instructions, a machine defined entirely by motive: the need to survive by any means necessary, and i keep that in mind as i sketch all the details. and with these memories, i’ll move on to the next train station. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 178 [topic] => 13 [informant] => summers [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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