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Array ( [sid] => 167707 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Afternoon Pleasure [time] => 2011-10-08 04:40:25 [hometext] => Written about my ex-boyfriend, and skipping school to see him, then ending up alone without any friends after he leaves me, at the end of every burst of relationship. Enjoy! [bodytext] => The end of the week is always death.
It is my war. Broken out,
out of the group who hawk me,
finding me gone. I知 a ghost to
those who stand by. I lament the rain.
This morning, alone, I board the train

Running away, to my afternoon pleasure.
Seeing lonely passion in the heart of a child.
I beat them to the line. I recline
in the carriage where they try to find me.
You who thought to judge he who is sane.
At days end, alone, I board the train.

Take for instance this day, benign
in which the hour beat, to the sound of full sin
no breath unshaken, as we wait for a sign
to leave this place, and grasp for our illusion
to grasp for false pretences of a future slain
At night, alone, I board the train

We break out of the cycle this way,
a burden on us. Could I
utter dreams of old age and say
I am over tired. Why lie?
Why tiptoe over fallacies of pain?
Next week, alone, I値l board the train.

I feel our rivals will make us lame.
To their hearts, and motives, beseech,
into rooms, not of homes, without shame.
9 am struggles, final moments out of reach.
And in their conscience, my struggle they feign.
Forever, alone, I値l board the train.
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 124 [topic] => 64 [informant] => thefacade [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
Afternoon Pleasure

Contributed by thefacade on Saturday, 8th October 2011 @ 04:40:25 AM in AEST
Topic: ambiguous



The end of the week is always death.
It is my war. Broken out,
out of the group who hawk me,
finding me gone. I知 a ghost to
those who stand by. I lament the rain.
This morning, alone, I board the train

Running away, to my afternoon pleasure.
Seeing lonely passion in the heart of a child.
I beat them to the line. I recline
in the carriage where they try to find me.
You who thought to judge he who is sane.
At days end, alone, I board the train.

Take for instance this day, benign
in which the hour beat, to the sound of full sin
no breath unshaken, as we wait for a sign
to leave this place, and grasp for our illusion
to grasp for false pretences of a future slain
At night, alone, I board the train

We break out of the cycle this way,
a burden on us. Could I
utter dreams of old age and say
I am over tired. Why lie?
Why tiptoe over fallacies of pain?
Next week, alone, I値l board the train.

I feel our rivals will make us lame.
To their hearts, and motives, beseech,
into rooms, not of homes, without shame.
9 am struggles, final moments out of reach.
And in their conscience, my struggle they feign.
Forever, alone, I値l board the train.




Copyright ツゥ thefacade ... [ 2011-10-08 04:40:25]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Afternoon Pleasure (User Rating: 1 )
by RussellReinhardt on Sunday, 9th October 2011 @ 12:17:49 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Damn how I know that feeling. That brings back painful memories.

Greatings
Russell


Re: Afternoon Pleasure (User Rating: 1 )
by Robert_Edgar_Burns on Tuesday, 11th October 2011 @ 11:07:21 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
It's who you're looking to for purpose
that determines your outlook on life.
In speaking about happiness and self
fulfillment and all needs being met,
The Bible says, "Seek ye first the
Kingdom of God and His Righteousness,
and all these things will be added to you."
So the bottom line is this: Happiness is
your choice and yours alone! Choose it!
What's holding you back? Reflect on it.
Your eyes might just be opened by a
fresh new life and outlook.
Blessings,
Robert Edgar Burns


Re: Afternoon Pleasure (User Rating: 1 )
by thehotshotpoet on Saturday, 30th June 2012 @ 08:42:30 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
this is beautiful work for sure
thanks for sharing
the hot shot poet




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