Post by Dismal.Sunrise on Apr 25, 2002 16:22:43 GMT -5
Right, ok...these would be my poems...as if you all couldn't guess...yeah...
Control
Control.
Tell me.
Is that what eludes you?
Show me.
The secrets you keep secluded.
Enlighten me.
To your darkest withdrawals.
Entice me.
With supple hints of knowledge.
Drown me.
In the shallow wake of naivety.
Save me.
From the hidden ravines of sanctity.
Lead me.
Forth to the rivers of fertility.
Allow me.
To set foot in my own worldly thoughts.
Release me.
From the confines of a sheltered existence.
Control.
Is that what eludes you?
Control me.
Independant Pain
A self-sufficient alcoholic
Ale made of blood of the dead
A drunken stupor
An everlasting fountain of pain.
Spurts of the life force
Keep you on your feet
Allow you to see through your own wall
Saves you from your faltering stumbling
A cushion of decaying hopes
And mismatched dreams
Soften the blow of a reality
You refuse to exist in
You have it all planned out
The safety net of intertwined morals
Will protect you from the harsh ground
That lay just below your Olympus
You sew your stitches loose
Allowing your naivety to seep through
And saturate the ground below
And taint the life that dwells within
Pull yourself together
Lick those wounds you keep concealed
Step froth from the mirror window
Show yourself, my friend.
Testament to a Heart
A wistful wind
Plays tauntingly with the candle flame,
Reiterating how in control the wind is.
The flame’s very existence
Is solely in the hands of the cruel wind.
At any moment it may choose,
And end the pain of light the candle radiates.
An easy breath keeps the wind in check,
Suspending it in time.
Caressing it softly it gains trust of the flame.
The flame burns brilliantly in the oxygen infused wind.
Performs the tricks of the glee,
Cementing it’s future in the loving embrace of the wind.
A noticeable difference in the winds attention
Withdraws the flame from the wind’s embrace
painfully slow the wind leaves…<br>Not wanting to leave without it’s first intention,
A gale brews within the lies and playwright scenes in the wind’s heart,
And gusts with furry toward pained flame…<br>Snuffing the joy and the pain,
That once led the way for misguided minds
Ending all that it had created.
Placidly is whispers off,
Leaving the once was flame in smoldering shame,
Abandoning the smoke to yearn for what once was.
Isn't it Ironic?
There is a river that runs through the valley of hell,
Fed by the crimson tears of an angel.
Tears of sadness falling from her eyes,
Shrieks of horror pushing through her sobs and helpless cries.
Another lost soul,
Another child falling into the bottomless whole.
A world where sadness exceeds all emotions,
And pain reveals new notions
Of an eternal end
To pain and hunger that writhes within
A buoyant raft sits upon the opposite bank
It does you no good there.
Swim the channel for your life
Reach for the other side
And realize then
That it was all for nothing
For the raft was just a figment of life
A need to be rescued
And irony sets it,
No one is there to help on the land.
Control
Control.
Tell me.
Is that what eludes you?
Show me.
The secrets you keep secluded.
Enlighten me.
To your darkest withdrawals.
Entice me.
With supple hints of knowledge.
Drown me.
In the shallow wake of naivety.
Save me.
From the hidden ravines of sanctity.
Lead me.
Forth to the rivers of fertility.
Allow me.
To set foot in my own worldly thoughts.
Release me.
From the confines of a sheltered existence.
Control.
Is that what eludes you?
Control me.
Independant Pain
A self-sufficient alcoholic
Ale made of blood of the dead
A drunken stupor
An everlasting fountain of pain.
Spurts of the life force
Keep you on your feet
Allow you to see through your own wall
Saves you from your faltering stumbling
A cushion of decaying hopes
And mismatched dreams
Soften the blow of a reality
You refuse to exist in
You have it all planned out
The safety net of intertwined morals
Will protect you from the harsh ground
That lay just below your Olympus
You sew your stitches loose
Allowing your naivety to seep through
And saturate the ground below
And taint the life that dwells within
Pull yourself together
Lick those wounds you keep concealed
Step froth from the mirror window
Show yourself, my friend.
Testament to a Heart
A wistful wind
Plays tauntingly with the candle flame,
Reiterating how in control the wind is.
The flame’s very existence
Is solely in the hands of the cruel wind.
At any moment it may choose,
And end the pain of light the candle radiates.
An easy breath keeps the wind in check,
Suspending it in time.
Caressing it softly it gains trust of the flame.
The flame burns brilliantly in the oxygen infused wind.
Performs the tricks of the glee,
Cementing it’s future in the loving embrace of the wind.
A noticeable difference in the winds attention
Withdraws the flame from the wind’s embrace
painfully slow the wind leaves…<br>Not wanting to leave without it’s first intention,
A gale brews within the lies and playwright scenes in the wind’s heart,
And gusts with furry toward pained flame…<br>Snuffing the joy and the pain,
That once led the way for misguided minds
Ending all that it had created.
Placidly is whispers off,
Leaving the once was flame in smoldering shame,
Abandoning the smoke to yearn for what once was.
Isn't it Ironic?
There is a river that runs through the valley of hell,
Fed by the crimson tears of an angel.
Tears of sadness falling from her eyes,
Shrieks of horror pushing through her sobs and helpless cries.
Another lost soul,
Another child falling into the bottomless whole.
A world where sadness exceeds all emotions,
And pain reveals new notions
Of an eternal end
To pain and hunger that writhes within
A buoyant raft sits upon the opposite bank
It does you no good there.
Swim the channel for your life
Reach for the other side
And realize then
That it was all for nothing
For the raft was just a figment of life
A need to be rescued
And irony sets it,
No one is there to help on the land.
