I wished to see the setting sun
before i was to die
linger death before you pry
this setting soul belongs to i
for little time, before my time has come

No one fought against my fiery word
so chilled my burning lips
felt the sting of cracking whips
and blew a gale that smelt of sunken ships
that never quit, his voice i was assured

There he sung, his wind of tongue
that threw me into bitter snow
time limped by forever slow
so i may only stand amid icy woes
fly my soul! back to the fires of young!

Listen to me!

The world agreed and cast
me into flame with sight omit
here frothed my skin, my eyes, in satan's pit
Crying! Begging! embers quit!
Die flame alit! so i may find peace at last!

a sound, extinguished before i gasped
my final taste of air
the flame had ceased, i was spared
but my air! it isn't there!
the dancing flames and i! our needs are shared,
we say aloud, and choke together
upon the nothing we can grasp!

Close your eyes and breathe again

rang the eerie voice of demise
i wanted sight of this pompous man
i'd bring his death with open hands
leave him t rot upon the land
until he descends, i'd rather have the skies

one blink

i took to cloudy wisps
like a pan of rising bread
the noon of sun's light shed
onto my skin which cracked and bled
this is where i had wished to be lead
Stop!
i ask no other gift!

tired but strong, a sign of sorrow
which ceased my ever steady climb
to now be stricken deaf and blind
Please! do not let me die this time
oh sweet divine! i wish a wing to borrow!

and thus i was given messenger wings, to carry messages to the ground
whistling glistening toward the earth
knowing near death new life will birth
my life to me no longer worth it's weighty girth
i wish a pleasant sound

Stop!

and there i stayed my body flayed
an angel stopped my fall
i knew it then to be just a stall
yet i stood there proud and tall
her voice a serenade

she took me to the treetops to slow our steady decline
the leaves silently kissing our tender face
every embrace gave me another lucid taste
of life in which was not a race
our fingers spaced, but we float together in time

serenade me with gentle tongue, the one i cannot comprehend
life is not meant to be understood, only experienced before you find it's end
i did not understand the words you spoke, but they were beautiful in another land
one drenched with sand, to dry inevitable tears of sorrow.

I don't remember the first song  ever made
I was not there to taste the sweet marmalade
dripping to this earth like rain in September
when it rained out from the afterbirth of
The first clever musical endeavor.
It was not i.
I was not the first to sit back
And rap my knuckles
Or tap my feet to the sweet rhythm
Of chirping cricket orchestrals
All written on the spot and never
Even thought about again. Like secrets
Carried to the grave of every short lived section
Of six legged minstrels.
It wasn't you either.
Just like you weren't the first to be inspired
By a cone spiders spiraling spire
Of a trap set for all music makers.
I was not the first to hear the melody
But if I could've been,
I probably wouldn't have taken it to memory
Or woken from my revelries
Because not everything new to me
Is the most beautiful flower you'd ever see.
But I could never rouse a lie like one that states
I wouldn't hum it off handedly later when
The sun went to wake the other side of the world.
And the orchestra whirled and settled into their
Whittled orchestra seats.
I wish I was there.
I wish I was the one who first
Was stricken speechless amid giving countless speeches when they first heard a cricket chirp in time with a meadowlark.
and Sparks danced amid the silence,
Too humble to adhere a single silhouette of sound
or even hint at the presence of an audience.
The sound wasn't meant to have applause
Or be critiqued of its brilliance.
Because it was the beginning
Of the resilience of the never ending sound we call
Music.

I sleep alone
Under a cloud of advertisements
For appliances, and tridents from
A hit feature called poseidon.
or a lion filled with cotton
For my niece or little cousin
Or I could electrify my tendons
Strengthen ligaments and senses
By chewing a certain gum
That loses flavor in a minute
I could tone my upper body
atone for my sins
Or win free gas for life
While suffering through the painful hits.
Of a generation of high profile
Low life wanabies,
Where ******* is the answer
To every question that they mention
Were taught to shoot first
And **** second.
Taught to **** first
And love never
Taught that being clever
Is irrelevant
******* win the challenge
And every single time any man begins to think about opening his mouth
The same 14 words will always be expected to come and keep coming out.
But they're arranged in a different order
So you see what he's about
And now poetry has been reduced
To a sleuce of woops and shouts.
And if you're different, you get shoved into a closet
Then forcibly ripped out.
And if you're silent, and refuse to join them
Then you become a perpetual annoyance.
Because you don't break noise ordinance
And your vocabulary exceeds vulgarity
And you see clarity amid the horribleness
Tears rain down like ratings
Of movies with soliloquies
when I hear everyone knows the words to baby
And not the national anthem
Not even oh say can you see.
Well I see,
I saw the other day
When with Awe the automatic sliding door
Wouldn't get the **** out of my way.
It's too slow, it doesn't fly like my terrabyte hard drive
filled with illegal archives of repeatedly stolen, masterfully woven, and absolutely real sound bytes of pure golden "music to my ears"
A list of favorite artists, communists and marxists, or completely incoherent mistakes of life made into stardust
That's falls down, or rather up from the heaven-hell
That they created. In the minds, of the mindless self hating teenage generation.
The teens think that their goal is met when thwir beating hearts are filled,
But the only thing that's filled is a millionaires pockets
With parents dollar bills.
But to blame them,
Is to blame the system,
And the rhythems of a nation
And the drive we have within
to beat the rest and always win
Things were always better before or will be better later
Fate has brought us here and still were breathing as a nation.
I know and you know, that what we love
Will slowly **** us
And yet we still trust
Our own infallible unquenchable material lust
That what humanity wants, it will seek out not because it can,because it must.
a rut that we could get out, but we won't because it's what we love.
Eventually, in this or the next century, we'll never need to move, and everyone will be good at everything
In some virtual reality, brought on by some technology. The automatic sliding doors are being replaced with banners for online stores.
We will soon swimming in much less, but we will want much more.
Want clothes that we've become to far to wear
Want jewels made from what's left of our atmosphere
Want technology to block tragedies from reaching our ears.
It might be inevitable, or it might be evitable whatever
The chances of either right now it's probably just an anomaly so please if you would go back to your shopping spree, and see only the things they want you to see.
Just be glad that they still let us have doors
That we can open manually.