Unquiet Desperation
February 08, 2012, 04:55:25 AM *
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[January 09, 2012, 09:35:14 PM] Ploe: That I could!

[January 27, 2012, 10:34:49 AM] Raven: I want to say hello and I want to say i was piter pater in the mean time ... god I love to piter pater i miss it so much

[January 27, 2012, 10:35:48 AM] Raven: dont mean to bitter pater?

[January 27, 2012, 10:36:08 AM] Raven: just pitter patter like feats

[January 27, 2012, 10:37:01 AM] Raven: hey pater i have some poems for you to talk shit on

[January 27, 2012, 10:37:12 AM] Raven: be really mean and shit

[January 27, 2012, 10:38:07 AM] Raven: I need pater on my platter

[January 27, 2012, 10:38:16 AM] Raven: a big dose

[January 27, 2012, 10:40:48 AM] Raven: or in brokelyn lingo harry ploter

[January 27, 2012, 10:46:17 AM] Raven: Been reading your new poems pater you on a yeats trip i like it?

[January 30, 2012, 12:49:57 PM] Raven: everyone has a great poem just tell your story in a special way I you will feel you much better

[January 30, 2012, 12:50:51 PM] Raven: these people get so good at writing poems they forget how to tell the story

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Author Topic: Poem from Issue 20. Flat Cola Bottles by Sean O'Callaghan.  (Read 1810 times)
carter
Gladiator
Cicero
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« on: January 29, 2008, 11:34:06 AM »

Anybody that's grown up in Britain or Ireland and didn't go to the type of school where each pupil has a pony will know this. Excellent stuff, took me bag to playing in the mud with the arse hanging out of my shorts. Hate to sound like some old fart but when you look at kids now you see how little we actually had. A bag of Golden Wonder and a quick blast on a fruit machine was riches beyond the dreams of avarice.

And now...?

And Terry Griffiths? Really?

Carter.
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Carter 4 Maxxie Oliver
keysersose
Ernest Hemingway
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« Reply #1 on: January 29, 2008, 10:50:49 PM »

We may disagree on other things, but you're right about this one.

This poem takes other poems into the car park and kicks thei crap out of 'em in front of everyone. Then it goes to their houses and bangs their wives. Unless they're female poems. In which case... ah, you get the picture.

Been there in that bingo hall... loads of old ladies booing the Maggie's Den call.

Let's see more from this guy.

Keyserrrrr.
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Under neon loneliness, motorcycle emptiness.
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