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Sorrow Cain Nov 2015
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Gazing into summer nights,
Sleeping under city lights.
Wishing on a star so bright,
To get the wish I wish tonight.

Wish to be, woe behold,
An angel with a heart of gold.
Who, for those with broken souls,
Paints their smiles, and fills their holes.
No idea what this is
  Nov 2015 Sorrow Cain
Adam Latham
The twilight of the day draws near,
The blazing sun is laid to rest,
And dimming skies let stars appear
That twinkle in the bloodstained west.

The once warm air turns cold and still,
Long drawn out shadows gently fade,
While birdsong that before was shrill
Falls silent in a soft cascade.

The rooftops change from red to black,
So too the rising spiralled wisps
Of smoke churned up from chimney stacks
And stoves of wood burnt cinder crisp.

And everywhere nights velvet brush
Begins to daub the landscape whole,
Descending with a quiet hush
That calms the nerves and soothes the soul.

Until the end when all too soon
The final vestiges of day
Are bade farewell by the new moon
Who cannot help but smile away.
Sorrow Cain Oct 2015
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Why is it so hard to find an unbiased opinion?
Sorrow Cain Oct 2015
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The world is full of obvious things that no one by any chance ever observes.
Sorrow Cain Oct 2015
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These mere words can't capture,
The things I hold inside,
They dance and tease, just out of reach,
The monotonous draw just not quite.

The rhyming poems do not rhyme,
The sentences bland and bleak,
The quotes and sayings out of time,
The powerful seem weak.

The story sometimes moves too fast,
Sometimes far too slow,
The characters aren't alive,
The paragraphs don't flow.

The twists are pitiful and turns are weak,
And easy to predict,
The truth as truth is never true,
And sense doesn't click.

It doesn't weave into a web,
But into a chaotic knot.
Where grass is blue, and crystals grey,
Straying from the plot.

My thinking far too twisted,
For people to understand,
for all extents and purposes, this poem has been left incompleted. Partly because it will amplify the meaning of this poem, mostly because I'm dead tired and can't be bothered. Feel free to use it, just put my name on it and send me a message so I can see.

S. Cain
Sorrow Cain Oct 2015
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Hope. It's as pointless
As waiting for the waves to
Come and take you away.
So effing bored!!!
Sorrow Cain Oct 2015
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"One night, Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly. He was a happily fluttering butterfly. It was so much fun. He could fly wherever he wanted. And he had no thought of being Zhou, but suddenly he woke up, and was startled to find that he was now Zhou. He couldn’t decide: Was he Zhou who’d dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly now dreaming he was Zhou? Between being Zhou and a butterfly, surely there must be some distinction. This is what we call the transformation of things."
No by me!!!
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