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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:14:15 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 141461
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Read Me
[time] => 2008-04-08 18:27:30
[hometext] => Self explanitory in a minimally abstract way.
[bodytext] => So very tired, And I wish I could be scratching This onto the back of a napkin somewhere. But I’m sitting in a warm, safe room. And I’m typing away at the trusty computer. Still, I see the truth. The little semblance of an artist in me Screams out of frustration. This will not be read. It will die as quickly as it was written. A true effort is not appreciated, But if I muse about purple goats And my uncle Scott who fights pirates, It can become a masterpiece. There is no uncle Scott. But the world is a scary place. My other work attempts to proclaim. “Here’s an idea,” he said. As the audience yawned And waited for the circus bear. Still exhausted and half finished for the night, But sleep will force itself upon the day. And half of me will be silenced. The other half will bloom. I can’t live without both, But it’d be nice for you to care about the one. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 296 [topic] => 69 [informant] => a7x36 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => poets )
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