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ashby-brownPoems
Sensing the year which twists **** out and last A break in the mold that I never said I knew How fast can the mind move? The human mind move? Is this another theory in a relative world roaring Moving like the vibration of a trolley car train A memory emoted like Beethoven's last movement To listen is to hear the sounds of the world To breathe is to kiss mother nature Behind the ear A sight will always be a fright if looked upon all night These voices These ridicules These echoes of shadows that illuminates the naked cave of tomorrow Is a thought transferring from one time to the next No vision is seen It is felt within Throughout these picket white fences Lay the dormant seed of corrupted obsession Twinkling at a first glance Dancing the joker's prance With bells that light up exploding into all of our eyes These were the thoughts of a man thought putrid yet divine And soon These dinner bells that we thought of so well Will evaporate like the first fog On a virtual shore We are the shadows in the night that pressed on Because that is all there is to do Press on
0
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 9:40 PM UTC
Press On
Sensing the year which twists **** out and last A break in the mold that I never said I knew How fast can the mind move? The human mind move? Is this another theory in a relative world roaring Moving like the vibration of a trolley car train A memory emoted like Beethoven's last movement To listen is to hear the sounds of the world To breathe is to kiss mother nature Behind the ear A sight will always be a fright if looked upon all night These voices These ridicules These echoes of shadows that illuminates the naked cave of tomorrow Is a thought transferring from one time to the next No vision is seen It is felt within Throughout these picket white fences Lay the dormant seed of corrupted obsession Twinkling at a first glance Dancing the joker's prance With bells that light up exploding into all of our eyes These were the thoughts of a man thought putrid yet divine And soon These dinner bells that we thought of so well Will evaporate like the first fog On a virtual shore We are the shadows in the night that pressed on Because that is all there is to do Press on
Written by
ashby-brown
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 9:40 PM UTC
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