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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:44:28 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 56581
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Dance Of The Last Flame
[time] => 2004-07-17 23:35:16
[hometext] => First poem in a long time.
[bodytext] => A dark dank closet. Fearless and unlawful. The rain patters as footsteps clatter. Live through and follow through. Only one thing will stay true. Rely on no one. For no one will rely on you. He arises in suns grace. The room fills with silence. The littered garb seems so clear. His steps thud across the rusty floor. Down the hall and across the kitchen. The terrible feeling starts its itching. The clouds will never part and give way. For he has just sinned in another way. He pulled her corpse to the eve of his house. There where he doused the body in kerosene. Lit the match and watched her gleam. The flames seemed to make her come alive. How the shadows danced across her brow. For they both knew her death wouldnt be in vain. The death for art gets all the fame. Now what once was isnt anymore. Her ashes are spread across the floor. Her lips will whisper never more. The art withdrew in its sinful eve. For her to be what she hasnt. But she is everything so dear to me. For murder and art are you and me. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Mortis-Dark [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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