What is asked of him he shall not achieve,
he finds exhaustion in his choice of pleasure.
Holding on to a past misinterpreted by those
with whom he wishes to share.
Egotistical self-righteous mistake,
Called upon by fools wishing him to shine false light.
He walks in still motion so predictable in his awkward craft,
frightened by dark wall shades.
Myths of fables accusations and labels, oh how they misconstrued.
Building a palace of gold in his escape, clotted by lies he sold.
Nothing to reap, nothing to share,
for the days of his works were never there.
As he sits in the sun in a room in the dark
he finds an answer in his callused heart.
If you wonder continue for you'll never know,
he hides in a shelter built by unknown.
Official as fabric unfolds, cling to his gift an innocent soul.
Let his light shine, it shall never grow old,
look inside if you dare for you to can be bold.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
What can be depicted that I have yet to touch,
unravel a mystery my mind has yet to absorb.
For leaves of stress fall on my path,
cremating my imagination as hours pass.
As the hand on the clock so turns.
One touched by the hand of death,
taking by fragile hand to grave.
Another, nerves unravel like thread,
how many hours only God knows.
One left confidence and pride
kind has been the hand of time.
As the hand on the clock so turns.
In a trance broken by my glimpse,
reality sets in and we come to this.
How many times has one sat and pondered,
dreams, tales, all wonder, life?
While the hand on the clock so turns.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Man bore a child to rise from a storm
to reach the heights of Godly form
Thus came from the vital womb
A crazed man; Fear he never knew
Pawnee, Pirate greatest Mountain Man
his soul journey, to tame a savage land
On a trail to the grounds of fertile water
he leads many to walking pelts of gold
when thunder from the mountains
shatters is bold heroic soul
Taring from the flesh, extracting from bone
the king of the wild from many stories known
Lashing of teeth settles on tough leather skin
eyes vanish back; Fear overtakes his men
When the violence departs by a well placed shot
the sulfur clouds like fog lift and float with the wind
Two men sit guarding their leader and friend
Death wavers over his soul like a black cloud
calling to take him to the darkest unknown
Fitzgerald and Bridger long ago they did depart
taking everything but the will of Glasses heart
Rolling to a rotting log, giving the maggots a feast
relieving him of infection, revealing scars from the beast
The greatest journey now unfolds months of crawling
return to the wilderness that he calls home
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
HIM: Oh my love hath thou torn from the pleasure of ecstasy, for in your new found faith, thou hast chastised thy own desire. To please whom but a God thy own eyes can not see, shame to lose such an extraordinary beauty.
HER: Faith is more then thy eyes can see, I find satisfaction in a eternity.
thou hast known me in the past, a shallow fall. ******* angel with such guilt, pride turned to dirt; I so love this, from water new birth.
HIM: Your Majesty, for the fools of the garden no longer dance, you found a new king to focus thy pain. Thou hast betrayed the ones who adore and hath given reason to thine pathetic world, you no longer please, is this farewell.
HER: Farewell? yes from a down spiral of torment, for thy demons that hath binned me no longer hold me a slave. With the promise of the cross I surrender thy past life to the dogs. Depart from me now I no longer seek love.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Strive for mythical perfection, how with out critique?
I'm aware of trial and error, yet I must press to find favor.
Stress nor pacing not an uncommon trait; However Imagination
never seems to be mislead? Strange, is the will to create such a masterpiece
the only truth? I say not! for fulfillment of ones desire, to search deep within the torment and grace of soul is the true creation of literary art. When there is no distraction from review unlimited is the artists view, for eyes to read and lips to question; besides no one ever understands the intentions. So as I pondered for suns and moons I realize the obvious truth.......For all this time I sat and gave, my heart my soul my tears my pain, I find the lack of communication between writer and reader interrupts the intentions of poetic gain. In all this time I've found no one truly cares what is written down. So shall I dream to become a bright star...No, I wish to remain emotionally far.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
These walls create a vibration that settles in my open ears,
Reflecting on my mind delivers forth a crystal tear.
Head filled with nonsense and laughter of fright,
bringing out the demons who whisper in the night.
Loneliness not a era nor phase,
when shall the sun spread its tender rays.
Invisible name capture my insight,
take heed my warning and never seek false light.
The clearest of burning star shine your wisdom bright,
an unbind my chains that lock my knowledge tight.
If I may ask for truth and not be caught up in a lie,
then I wish for that that's sacred a place were Angels die.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
your appearance has never graced my vision,
yet on the night of the moon gloweth thy prison.
Shelter in the dark heart of pain,
affecting the solitary state of thine name,
a travesty none shall ever tame.
Your warmth has never been in my grasp,
tender touch of love never hath pasted.
Alas' the struggle of innocent pain,
reflects that of the nature of thy game,
sorrowfully remaineth the same.
Torture my fight of sight,
shall strike forth with the pierce of thy knife.
Heart ache drowning in loneliness pain,
crumble upon my humility grave,
enslaved.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
The peaceful howls of night complement the dazzling starlit sky
Crackling of the burning pine fumigates the cool air
Cold bite of the rising sun, fog lifting from the trampled grass,
As color shimmers on the mirror ponds, the crickets no longer dance
Smoke at constant stream , calling now for dead shades of green
Winter hangs by the frosty hills only to vanish like its quick reveal
Wind whispers and it sways to the rhythm of trees,
sending out natural odors that please
Bugling erupts from the timber a song that is pleasant,
welcoming those that dream earth had a heaven
As the glow brings warmth brightness takes the shadows home,
Trails and paths of old come to a place where beavers roam
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
From the heart; the Heart deep high mountains lay frost
Laughter and song; Laughter the creatures sing a chant, ritual song
From the canyons; the Canyons of red as the tint of fall
Word of mouth; Mouth, echos the peaks of whitest snow
Crystals form as sickles and reflect the light of noon
New phase now repressing as the colors of the moon
Shadows respond in ominous stride
provoking the waters to musically drive
The whispering whistle of the the wind
travels through the pines like a soft spoken friend
Beauty; The Beauty to unearth a Godly quest
Travel now to the mountains, as child to mothers breast.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
I
Honor from that of a fowl heart
Crimson and gold-silver bells shrill
Fools delight in drunken birth
Moonlit jasmine and sapphire glow
billowing pillars of smoke from towns below
Merry and gay is the festival-parade
from farther land come, beautiful delicate maids
Hustling steps to the garden square
gray stone now wet from decline of care
Marionettes sway with colorful strings of joy
Shakespearean theater a play of fools
making their toasts to crystal jewels
Chapels painted star of David so bright
yet they stray banished from glorious light
Catacombs shake, a hungry soul stirs
come now the widows of savage earth
Reflect, yes ponder upon shallow grave
a house with no sun, yet fierce is the shade
Piercing, Scorching the turn of the blade
laughter now fades on fools darkest day
II
For the singer of song, sings unlike that of the bird
Howling sheds tears, unpleasant-Forever heard
Outlasting that of the harp which David played
Increasing with time like a judgmental plague
If the halo shines bright, on but a few who wed
the blues played by all men who fear life then dead
Silver string and black is the heart
Heaven and creation so far-Far apart
take note of the artist-metronome of pain
Keeping the rhythm with Fools darkest day.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC