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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 22:47:37 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 57653
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => new yorkers
[time] => 2004-07-26 15:56:03
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => grey clouds float high,above the black buildings the people below scatter,as the rain clouds fill and the tears flow the thunder nymphs dance and the skys alight the grey people look so small the sky scrapers dont even come close to the sky they pierce it but do not rip the edges of time the roads you can hear the horns of the drivers beeping into the distance the petrol fumes are enough to make your head spin a place so large you could get lost in your own neighbourhood the alleys at night look dark and dangerous the gangs scatter as the police roll through town this place so badly known so cursed so loved across the ocean landed us who are we new yorkers [comments] => 2 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Hannah_Heaven [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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