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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 16:40:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 171989
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Home
[time] => 2012-04-17 23:56:02
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => It always rains in my hometown, The clouds are kind enough to wash what they can away The town cut out my tongue, It grew back sharper and quicker than the one they stole. I walk by the river, Still blackened by the ones it took, When thoughts fall upon a deaf ear, I begin to whisper. I care little for your Tupperware regime, I care little for your barbecue tyranny, One should always give way to real men. Home, is where the heart is. The fruit, plentiful, It decays in the street, By the grocer, by the police station, By the school that keeps em comin. A species of their own, that Ritalin race. At noon the fog lifts, At two it sets again, I do breakfast at four, Mother days it is the most important meal of the day. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 109 [topic] => 13 [informant] => HJShreeve [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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