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Poetry Movement - December 18

Poetry Movement 12/18
Three days sliced out of December and I am already gone.
In a thicket of peach trees and thorn bushes I mingle with likeminded sparrows, searching for freedom and sweets.
It's here, we know it, upon this soft heart of yours.
Lined with velvet and wire for tripping, we shall find our pieces of mind, our holes in the sand and quilts sewn from torn patches in history books.
beautiful! 18.Dec.2002 13:25



Gondola Mustard 18.Dec.2002 16:46

Metal Pancreas

Many small corpulent things die
On her curving gold shelf.
The evil flower bends
towards the moon at noon.
A hired innocent
carraige slows,
wheel crushing impregnated pig.
You sit crying,
in a spell,
in a book.

This isn't poetry... 18.Dec.2002 18:36


Sounds more like a bowel movement to me. Poetry is supposed to rhyme you clowns...

Hey trilox 18.Dec.2002 19:55


That is like saying paintings are supposed to be of landscapes.

eh.. 18.Dec.2002 20:07


Rhyme if you enjoy the obvious, predictable and cliche...

tap tap 19.Dec.2002 18:19

Petal Mancreas

What the fuck are you talking about, Trolix? Moon and noon rhyme, you, you... clown?