Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Hold
On
Pain
Ends
The Color Morale
 Oct 2014 John Savage
Tyler James
Ask yourself, are you The Lion or the Sheep?
You call yourself the King of the Jungle,
However, the jungle is not your resting place.
Is that not ironic?

If home is not a home,
Than it is as empty as the grassy fields you roam.
A Sheep knows its role – to feed be fed upon.
Yet, a Lion hunts less then he lets on.
Humility is scarce, far more than his prey.
A predator should be humble or next to nothing he’ll lay.
At the top of the food chain links can still be broken
If too much pride is spoken, it’ll leave messages unheard.
Your strengths are dependent on the perception of others.
Brothers are among you,
Your choice is to follow or lead.
The Hunter or the Hunted,
*The Lion or the Sheep.
 Oct 2014 John Savage
Tyler James
A Tree of Life with roots of evil will die in the storm,
before it’s ever born.
The sun will be its father, and it will be raised by mother earth.
If it soaks up knowledge it will survive its birth.
Sprouting ideas while growing its spirit.
There’s a whisper in the wind... be quiet and you can hear it.
Doesn’t need to fear it, when the weather gets cloudy.
It knows its true colors and reveals them proudly.  
It cannot be not shy, because when it looks around.
It realizes every other tree is similar,
Just different branches in the ground all waiting to be found.
Discovered and loved; nourished by nature.
It realizes its reflection is its only true stranger.
Covered with bark so you cannot see the inner.
Shadowed by the dark, transforms to a sinner.
A stump at worst, and a home at best.  
Too much is in between to explain the rest.
Now let it be known, when the red leaf falls,
It’s the end of a season for no apparent reason.
Time to change its ways; it won’t take a few days.
Give it time to mature to reach its full potential.
It sounds so simple, yet gets complicated.
When it timbers down, something new is created.
It went from a seed to sprout, conquered any drought.
Now with a shout of thunder, it just can’t help to wonder.
"Why am I here, and what is my purpose?"
But if it received the answer, would life really be worth it?
I don't expect you to understand
Why I recoil when
You extend your arms and hands
Why I brace for impact
Within the trajectory of your touch
It is warm,
and I am cold.
It is wind,
and I am stone.
IF YOU STEAL THIS POEM, OR ANY OTHER POEMS OF MINE. I WILL FIND YOU, AND I WILL COME AFTER YOU LEGALLY. I AM SOOO SICK OF SEEING THIS POEM ALL OVER THE INTERNET WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S NAME UNDER IT. I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN LIVE WITH YOURSELVES. STEALING OTHERS WORK AND CLAIMING IT AS YOUR OWN. BUT ALL OF THESE ARE COPYRIGHTED SONGS. SO YOU BETTER HOPE I DON'T CATCH YOU. P.S. THANKS TO ALL OF THE PEOPLE FINDING AND TELLING ME ABOUT THESE FAKES. I APPRECIATE THE LOYALTY. :)
 Oct 2014 John Savage
Chance
Muse II
 Oct 2014 John Savage
Chance
We don't even know eachother but your name echoes through my head

Like a solemn comforting whisper while i lay awake at four am in bed

I hope our paths cross eternally
The leaves
Make death
Look beautiful
 Oct 2014 John Savage
Tara Marie
The breath of autumn dawns
upon the stagnant, sullen ground.
Quaking oh so suddenly,
and spreading whispers round.
The scent of every color
changing tone to tone.
and falling, effervescently
beneath the moon's stark bones.
The silent metamorphosis
creeps from grass to tree,
not accursed or tantalized,
but ever now so free.
They're playing tag with color,
and shedding summer shade,
caressing grass with remnants
of winded leaves as graves.
Now, as the sun decides to set,
and beckon warmth awry.
A streak of color lights the earth,
and collapses in the sky.
Next page