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Array
(
[sid] => 154691
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => childhood dreams lost to anxiety
[time] => 2009-11-03 10:39:56
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I remember a time of simpleness When every empty box was an adventure And every stick a gleaming katana or jewel encrusted scepter Girls chased boys around the playground planting kisses with sweet cherry innocence Drugs were bad church was good No mixed matched messages to be misunderstood Life is a pressure cooker Broiling and squeezing drops of whimsy out of mind body soul Onto hot metal where it sizzles into steam Leaving what was once beautiful a charcoal briquette The trick to life is to never renovate imagination for logic Or wonder for reason Keep roots growing further into ground And head shooting up to the stars Never take for granted the unfathomable enigma that is life Bask in the resonaniting waves of love hate suffering and ecstasy The valleys make the summits more impressive And what we need to realize yall Is that there is life after death Carrying the weight of cheap wiskey hanging on its breath And someday soon we are going to leave No ifs ands or buts so Don’t let gods coded gifts Lay dormant and decayed amidst the headphone static Don’t forget to read the undiscovered psalms Scribbled in the putrid filth of a beggars palm Walk the dusty path of the righteous man Through the rotting rusted industrial graveyard Avert eyes from temptation and econimic inflation Because the best things in life are still guilt free Despite anything they say You are all you need No more pencils no more books No more green red wires stabbing into our psyche Pumping filtered saline solutions and product placements Life my friends, is complicated Insecure bricks and concrete criticality cement our paths Science and religion tell us what we cant do And we seem to forget as time goes on what we can bend Stuck in a social coma waiting for difilibration Watch mr. smith hold filibusters for what he feels is write Weaving philosophical filament to fill in the gaps and jump start Dead forgotten pistons ***** on and ***** off in the recesses of our own Ancient southern lords sip cognac and quibble about their qualms Counting the clink of coins not so quietly in the background The chosen one passes under the golden arches and orders enlightenment with a diet coke And he is asked if he would like that super sized Happiness now comes with an annual upgrade For only 9.95 we can be more cheerful and in better control of our lives Screw it, when im finally done dancing im gonna live in the woods and eat pinecones and grasshoppers. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 254 [topic] => 43 [informant] => simonwrite [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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