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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:24:32 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 107108
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Lines
[time] => 2005-10-05 00:45:52
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Lines, the follow everywhere, From rows of buildings high, To trees – a forest standing tall, The lines will never die. Encaged – the bars of prison, Free – the blades of grass, Lines they follow everywhere, They’ll never let us pass. And even as you sit and read, The lines control your thought, Why not write on swirls and dots? The sense it makes is naught. Lines of ants in lines of work, Lines of stars erupt, Lines of troops in battle, This law – it seems corrupt. Lines they follow everywhere, Ironic it may seem – This poem, fighting back for truth, How’s it written? I want to scream. And when we die more lines are brought, Buried, we lie in rows, The lines control our life and death, But why? I’ll never know. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 262 [topic] => 21 [informant] => black_star [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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