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11-08-2003, 09:06 PM
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#1 (permalink) |
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Illusionary
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poetrymotion
lets see if this idea takes
read the topic/ write a poem todays topic : dirt grit in my teeth time itself salting my tongue which ancient rock seeded your birth lying beneath making all things look young why call you something as quiet as dirt
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha |
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11-09-2003, 07:19 AM
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#2 (permalink) |
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Psycho
Location: the western part of new york
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dirt
we are born from it when we die we end up there it will always be
__________________
"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world." - Tyler Durden |
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11-09-2003, 07:39 AM
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#3 (permalink) |
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TFPer formaly known as Chauncey
Location: North East
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raked upon flesh
we are purified sticky situations born from dilmna we are forever frozen within its shadow for ever nestled we taste the posinoness stains of reality. the true notion that whereever we are and whatever we do we create dirt. Even the most beutifull painting is just another prism of Debree upon a naked earth.
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~Esen What is everyone doing in my room? |
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| poetrymotion |
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