Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
It always seems my darkest dreams are wrought by day sun brought.
Rarely is reality an ample theme of thought.
I tend to lend a hue of humor horror and confusion,
To each insipid incident improved by my delusion.

Few can follow in the furrow forged by winding mind.
From time to time I try to track it and end up left behind.
So tangled is my train of thought, I come across as crazy,
I could explain each chain of thought, but really I'm just Lazy.
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
The night of the fight,
Mind closed to the sights,
I dread counting lights.

Before the first round,
Ears closed to all sound,
Soon violence unbound.

Nerves make me shiver,
Heart starts to quiver,
Win by a sliver?

Start off like a shot,
Lungs burn icy hot,
Give all that I got.

With fire in the veins,
Let go of the sane,
Embrace the sweet pain.

With hand in the air,
I knew how I'd fare,
No feeling so rare.
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
Silvery spectator sheds touch of light
Tranquil forest green, black, white,
Snow settles down, Not a sound,
On this crisp, winter, night.

Like the snow, white and silent,
An owl hunts its prey,
A hungry hare looks up by chance,
Is struck by fright,
He cannot get away.

So unlucky was this glance,
To see impending doom.
There is no time for thought of flight,
Forever will that final sight
Be owl's snowy plume.
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
Random goes tandem with insane in the brain,
I try for the score that is more then the rest,
Passed test, the best.

Yet no one knows nothing now and everything later,
Can't understand the thoughts in my mind, the kind that you find
To be strange and deranged will all be changed.

But hence they make sense in the right pretense
The stream of my dreams pour forth from the lake of my mind.
The mirth of their birth from this firth is too fast to grasp.

Dripping down into darkness, slipping through fingers, ripping open a tear
Never meant to be there.  Don't care how I fare,
Or stand there and stare, stealing dignity from me as plain as can be.

Myself is my own, neither water nor stone
I may be alone but am still flesh and bone,
And may my thoughts be known
More or less,
To be meaningful to the meaningless.
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
Drifting away,
Day after day.
Miles closer,
Yet farther apart.
Bent so far as to break,
Deep in its ache,
Forever longing the start.
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
The one that got away.
Or should I say, that there was a day
When there was one that got away?

Memories, such as these,
Are hazy at best, crazy at worst.
Did my mind make a false key?

Stuffing the square not meant to be there,
Into the small circular whole in my head.
A mistake that could wake the dead?
Alex Gebhart Jan 2010
I think you'll find when I speak my mind,
That I have most certainly lost it.
Reality has grabbed my brain and to my pain,
Has crumpled up and tossed it.

— The End —