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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:31:23 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 140374
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cupid, the retarded Archer
[time] => 2008-02-13 06:15:53
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => You dare trade a Dove for a Crow, a rose for a shrub, a gun for a sword. "They're all items" i hear you say, with your rubber bow eroded and stained; on the night the lovers forgot your name. With lips of vile feathers where my woes would flourish; the whores. Are mute. And you would come in at night like a thief, told to hold beauty by the throat. And... and that last breath you would give to the world; on the age of the widows and the machines. Arise the Goliath of Rome; imperial march that destroyed my home. Cupid's bow buried on the Province of Terni; just make sure you're the one to throw the last stone. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 254 [topic] => 62 [informant] => SomeDude [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 1 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => spiritual )
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