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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:33:49 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 99874
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => an accesible musical metaphor
[time] => 2005-07-02 08:31:45
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A lento in my head swishes use from my mind 'Are you finding joy in forlorn touch', cooes the tune. Repetition is my answer, repition is the sound. Eyes squeezed disdainfuly, flowers fall from eyelashes. They make absorbing patterns, all who see is barren. This noise falls not on deaf ears, all the unity exists within it. Countless hands in a pose, we're having fun. My ditty lathers common lonesome insanity My private ballroom starts to swirl, the chorus swells. Seeds from a plant spread forth, dancing to it all. The brass slowly file out, strings are soon to follow. A janitor mops the remnants away, he whistles a private tune. He dances with the mop, imagining a partner. Never companion lost, but always never found. I guess this has been an accesibile musical metaphor. A bit vague yes, but prettying a 'grotesque' none the less. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 221 [topic] => 61 [informant] => classicfailedhero [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )
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