on Mar 4th 2001, 02:35:00, quetzalcoatl wrote the following about
The proliferation [[the]] of mutilation of language, often called 'free-verse poetry,' is created by people who would play tennis without [[the]] net.
here's the 'Net, you moron:
Your path is strewn with danger
but you're checked-out, unaware
Will your choice be Fully Conscious?
or a chilled-out deadman's stare?
Red bud's are blooming
in the grass
no parking here
no room to pass
you're living in your head
reality will smack you
and life's a bitch, I've always said
It's an endless fascination
got my eyes all full of stars
and my head's all full of daydreams
deaf and blind to passing cars
Well life is pain and death is sure
the sun's on the blade
all the colors so pure
Is that blood on the grass?
or blood on your face?
gravity wins and physics prevail
in this race
Well I just get so distracted
I just gotta rock and roll
smashed my face and broke my glasses
'cause I walked into that pole