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Array ( [sid] => 115022 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => (Insert Make-Believe Poem Name Here) [time] => 2006-02-18 23:01:32 [hometext] => um..ive done some rethinking on the way my poems flow, i took a new twist to this one. enjoy! P.S. Please Comment!!! ; ) [bodytext] => how much a life costs in this world is yet another's,
with bloodthirsty political giants,
corrupted not from birth but by election,
sitting in their padded chairs with their padded lives and padded minds,
oblivious to all that their dysfunctional conciences don't pick up,
and it's all under the radar, under the covers, under the prescence of the night,
and they sleep soundly,
pills and dreams,
which contain only money which the rest of us wish they'd forget.

Past the reluctant reformers, past their excused troublemaking children,
past their crosses fingers behind their backs,
directly to the point.
We don't need them, they need us, so why are we worse off with them?
United we stand, divided we fall,
let's play a game of pick up sticks after the hurricane,
oh wait-
nevermind.
we're supposed to give up on that for now and concentrate on warring even worse off countries than our own.
Terrorists are not just in faraway lands, they exist right here-
In our cities, our schools, our crowded streets and underneath the broken bridges.

Time does not become of essence until we will it to be important, but still we push off everything for others to do,
the next generation, the next decade's geniuses,
and we chooses to save the trees and kill the children, trip up the last traces of good will,
banish the pleading faces from our minds
and change the channel to more corruption, more hypnotic shows to turn our throughts into cornmeal.
Shows for cooking, shows for the already uninnocent children, restricted material on T.V.,
ages nine and seventy three both watching.
If we don't screw up enough in their lives already, television's aim is good enough.

Party party rebel, drink up again, come home to basically the same scene except with people that should know better.
Go up to your room and listen to the randomly chosen ones scream their lungs out through your sound system,
one speaker broken from when you threw it at your ex.
Violence is everywhere and the grown-ups are turning the other way,
don't want to be called hypocrites.
So the ongoing cycle continues on, the educated and the soon to be in the ways of this twisted world
and all who live in it.
Mourn the death of purity and simple life. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 151 [topic] => 43 [informant] => PuppyChow [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
(Insert Make-Believe Poem Name Here)

Contributed by PuppyChow on Saturday, 18th February 2006 @ 11:01:32 PM in AEST
Topic: oops



how much a life costs in this world is yet another's,
with bloodthirsty political giants,
corrupted not from birth but by election,
sitting in their padded chairs with their padded lives and padded minds,
oblivious to all that their dysfunctional conciences don't pick up,
and it's all under the radar, under the covers, under the prescence of the night,
and they sleep soundly,
pills and dreams,
which contain only money which the rest of us wish they'd forget.

Past the reluctant reformers, past their excused troublemaking children,
past their crosses fingers behind their backs,
directly to the point.
We don't need them, they need us, so why are we worse off with them?
United we stand, divided we fall,
let's play a game of pick up sticks after the hurricane,
oh wait-
nevermind.
we're supposed to give up on that for now and concentrate on warring even worse off countries than our own.
Terrorists are not just in faraway lands, they exist right here-
In our cities, our schools, our crowded streets and underneath the broken bridges.

Time does not become of essence until we will it to be important, but still we push off everything for others to do,
the next generation, the next decade's geniuses,
and we chooses to save the trees and kill the children, trip up the last traces of good will,
banish the pleading faces from our minds
and change the channel to more corruption, more hypnotic shows to turn our throughts into cornmeal.
Shows for cooking, shows for the already uninnocent children, restricted material on T.V.,
ages nine and seventy three both watching.
If we don't screw up enough in their lives already, television's aim is good enough.

Party party rebel, drink up again, come home to basically the same scene except with people that should know better.
Go up to your room and listen to the randomly chosen ones scream their lungs out through your sound system,
one speaker broken from when you threw it at your ex.
Violence is everywhere and the grown-ups are turning the other way,
don't want to be called hypocrites.
So the ongoing cycle continues on, the educated and the soon to be in the ways of this twisted world
and all who live in it.
Mourn the death of purity and simple life.




Copyright © PuppyChow ... [ 2006-02-18 23:01:32]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: (Insert Make-Believe Poem Name Here) (User Rating: 1 )
by NoSaint on Saturday, 25th February 2006 @ 09:35:00 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
your platform is clear good work

NS




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