charisse-de-belen - Hello Poetry

Somewhere, there is a labyrinth, where people wander around and around, suffering, Unwilling contestants of a cruel game, where the Winner doesn't live to tell the tale—to claim the prize. It is Wicked and unrelenting. The wardens of this Prison are ruthless, indiscriminately casting their victims into the labyrinth, Just to see what they're made of. Around and around they go, trying to get out of This endless ring of suffering, Trying to regain control of their lives from this Monstrous power. They search to find out where the end is, Around and around, bewildered marionettes, hugging the Walls, as cold as death. But they cannot find the exit to this labyrinth. They cry out and curse this labyrinth Of suffering. They don't want to know what they're made of. They want to stop the agony and the suffering. "Around and around is not the answer to this," They finally cry like hungry animals, "Straight and fast is." And so they go, straight and fast, to break away from the Horrors they're frantically attempting to escape. The Frigid walls, stretching endlessly upward, collapse as they blast through the labyrinth Like siege engines. Around and around their heads, like drunken birds, images of Their lives whirl by. Desperate to put an end to their sweat and suffering, These prisoners blindly race toward the light in the distance. But this Solution does not completely end the suffering. That's not how the labyrinth is. Look around you. What you see is Filled with raging fists, starving mouths, and the Cries of those drowning in their own suffering. This world is a world of Recurring pain, winding around and around like a labyrinth. Look around you and answer me: What is this? This Is The Labyrinth Of Suffering. We all are stuck suffering, flies in a web. We imagine ourselves escaping, hiding this Bleak present under a fabricated future, but the labyrinth does not begin or end. It just is. So around and around we go. Welcome to the labyrinth. Let's see what you're made of.

0

May 30, 2011

May 30, 2011 at 9:21 AM UTC

charisse-de-belen

The Labyrinth

Somewhere, there is a labyrinth, where people wander around and around, suffering, Unwilling contestants of a cruel game, where the Winner doesn't live to tell the tale—to claim the prize. It is Wicked and unrelenting. The wardens of this Prison are ruthless, indiscriminately casting their victims into the labyrinth, Just to see what they're made of. Around and around they go, trying to get out of This endless ring of suffering, Trying to regain control of their lives from this Monstrous power. They search to find out where the end is, Around and around, bewildered marionettes, hugging the Walls, as cold as death. But they cannot find the exit to this labyrinth. They cry out and curse this labyrinth Of suffering. They don't want to know what they're made of. They want to stop the agony and the suffering. "Around and around is not the answer to this," They finally cry like hungry animals, "Straight and fast is." And so they go, straight and fast, to break away from the Horrors they're frantically attempting to escape. The Frigid walls, stretching endlessly upward, collapse as they blast through the labyrinth Like siege engines. Around and around their heads, like drunken birds, images of Their lives whirl by. Desperate to put an end to their sweat and suffering, These prisoners blindly race toward the light in the distance. But this Solution does not completely end the suffering. That's not how the labyrinth is. Look around you. What you see is Filled with raging fists, starving mouths, and the Cries of those drowning in their own suffering. This world is a world of Recurring pain, winding around and around like a labyrinth. Look around you and answer me: What is this? This Is The Labyrinth Of Suffering. We all are stuck suffering, flies in a web. We imagine ourselves escaping, hiding this Bleak present under a fabricated future, but the labyrinth does not begin or end. It just is. So around and around we go. Welcome to the labyrinth. Let's see what you're made of.

39

Trembling hands grip 'round relief, White gives way to crimson streams. Lonely heart, so filled with grief, Overcome your stifled screams. Hold your blade, look up and see-- A world of love wants you set free.

0

May 30, 2011

May 30, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC

charisse-de-belen

Yohe

Trembling hands grip 'round relief, White gives way to crimson streams. Lonely heart, so filled with grief, Overcome your stifled screams. Hold your blade, look up and see-- A world of love wants you set free.

6

Outside, I'm fine. Laughter resonates From my body, Swelling, spreading endlessly. A bird soaring, My song vibrant, Reaching out to you, I fly. Inviting you to sing along. Beneath, I suffer. The laughter doesn't ring deep. A bruised heart Time has yet to heal. This bird once was caged, This song once was broken. Calling out in vain, I cry. But no one takes notice.

0

May 30, 2011

May 30, 2011 at 9:15 AM UTC

charisse-de-belen

Songbird

Outside, I'm fine. Laughter resonates From my body, Swelling, spreading endlessly. A bird soaring, My song vibrant, Reaching out to you, I fly. Inviting you to sing along. Beneath, I suffer. The laughter doesn't ring deep. A bruised heart Time has yet to heal. This bird once was caged, This song once was broken. Calling out in vain, I cry. But no one takes notice.

18