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Matt Shade Jan 29
May your words be worth your breath,
so that your birth be worth your death.
May warm love flow from your aim,
but make those two things not the same.
You wish to trod in the Eden of love,
you'll stray if you're head is high above-
do the math, and add up the sum:
love will come by the path of wisdom.
Wisdom is the road towards bliss,
so as you journey, remember this:
The only wisdom is to know
when to hold on, and when to let go.
The only virtue is this: be free.
The only sin is misery.
Matt Shade Dec 2018
What is this strange place to which I have awoken?
The walls are white, the light is dark, everything is broken.
What happened to my riches; my horses and my concubines?
What treachery of witches sacked the morrow from these mines?
I doubt that I am to discover the machine behind this portal;
best I just forget, for life is lost on the immortal.
I guess I’d be just as pleasant a peasant as I was a noble king-
because I’m free, I probably could make my love from anything.
So was the grand ambition but a fever-maddened dream?
The measures of a man are as the shadow of the steam,
rising from the heat upon a trickling desert stream.
Matt Shade Dec 2018
So valiantly did he die upon a little hill
Of greenest grass and under sweetest air,
And he died grinning for his unfailing will,
And for what eternal glory met him there-

And his courageous heroism will be told
In song by each new coming generation
Who still sing those fighting songs of old
Within our most proud and glorious nation-

What true sacrifice and supreme nobility
Lies in he who serves our lofty dreams
Of wealth, so you and I can grow up to be
Just like the stars from our media streams-

Because he believed in his bleeding heart
What it means to die for where you live.
If he had one regret, and was let to restart-
It'd be that he hadn't another life to give!
Matt Shade Nov 2018
'Twas a foreboding, stormy night,
when I sat down by the fire's light
with such intention then to write.

I wished to report on what I had seen
passing across my window screen-
thinking I knew what it could mean.

How those streets in downpour glisten-
would even one soul out there listen?
Even one would warrant my mission.

Hearing tired branches sway,
I wondered then how I was to say
what couldn't be said in any way.

I sat, reaching for all those things
which the hand of daylight brings-
Oh, but how it's absence stings!

How long I sat in aimless wonder
for the spell that I'd been under,
hearing now just constant thunder,

but no words would come to me.
By writing, I'd set the world free-
but all that came out was poetry.
Matt Shade Nov 2018
When you jump into the sea,
through the gates of infragile infinity,
do not forget to get your hair wet.
Do not forget to forget the city,
and don't forget where they cast the net.

When you're waiting for your train,
do not forget to become insane,
for here is where your mirror is met.
Such is the nature of your pain:
You will give more than what you get.

When you huddle in the cold,
watching your empty time unfold,
and all of your joy is rooted in regret-
Don't forget to whom your soul was sold,
and do not let them win the final bet.

When you're buried into soil,
and let to rest from all your toil;
when your corpse is roasted on a spit-
Darkness will still have the light to foil,
so long as you do not forget.
Matt Shade Nov 2018
Even as I breathe, I dance,
for I have come upon by chance
some young and living
summer nights,
who play under bright,
shimmering lights.
As all the planets pass me by,
I wonder- was it them, or I
keeping the earth in its position?
Call it a ****** superstition,
but I must point out how odd it feels
to think that these eternal wheels
would pick just any empty fools
to mold into the vacuums tools
before pulling the world away.
I know to them I have no say,
but if I did, I would explain
that I am more than just a brain-
I too am all the universe,
so I wrote us this note of verse
to thank us bravely, as a man,
and say I'll help us where I can.
Matt Shade Nov 2018
Somewhere far from the stars, I slept
and dreamed a dream where I dug a hole
in the sand, which fell as the pyramids wept-
I dug too deep; Earth swallowed me whole.
Some angels freed me from that prison
in which I knew the hour or minute
but a year had passed my vision
and spun a world without me in it.
Now as a spirit I'll sing to every soul
who wishes to flea the waves of sorrow
by sipping some cyanide from a bowl:
Refuge which we take, we borrow
from the children of tomorrow.
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