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Array
(
[sid] => 89901
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Punky
[time] => 2005-04-04 20:53:13
[hometext] => this poem was originally called something else and it sounded better but since I'm not allowed to have vulgar language in my poems on here-I had to edit them out
[bodytext] => Punky sat down on the toilet, Not realizing that he fell in, Angered by the way the tiles pieced together on the floor, And with all the drugs floating through him, He took his fist and smashed the tiles into pieces of hate. Punky screamed as his love died, Through the eyes of a killer, He shot the wretch, but it wasn’t him- Punky wanted to let go of all his memories, But couldn’t find it in him to feel for a new heart, For nothing could ever change the love he had-HIS FATE! Shot-killed-he couldn’t blow it all away. He couldn’t be brave for a moment, So Punky got up, Screaming at his pants for being wet, And ran out of the house, His Mohawk flopping, Like a flimsy piece of clay on his head, He had to be strong, He had to carry on, Punky was in love, But now he whipes his tears in her death, And swallows all the memories of his heart unbroken, Was she really dead or was she just inside his head? Punky on drugs, Addiction to destruction, A love tease for hate, Punky lusts for what he thought he had. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 195 [topic] => 6 [informant] => AtomicPromIse [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
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