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ashby-brownPoems
There were envelopes addressed With letters inside of them Written to people That I'd never met Words for people that have Never existed Fodder for the fanciful devil Terror for the trembling weak Remembrances dance memories Can't speak But what is the voice When it has nothing to say? When it has nothing to say at all? And encouragement, What is encouragement, But someone else's attempt to fall? There was dew on the tree from Last nights rain It trickled down the banister Cool, quiet, and wet as I made my Out A woman crossed the street weeping She was meeting a man She honestly didn't want to see And these are the people that live with Encouragement "Go get'em!" attitudes Faking clear eyed Fanaticism for the ends meat For the prize For the win Winning in a land that produces Corrupt meals On Wheels That shoots bullets towards men of Change and honor and Liberty That breathes down the necks of back breaking Men and women that have just Nothing, no nothing at All To suffer here is to live correct Flipping a silver coin toward a burnt buttered toast sky Is to live high Is to live quiet high Is to live So one can die
0
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 7:51 AM UTC
Cool, Quiet Out
There were envelopes addressed With letters inside of them Written to people That I'd never met Words for people that have Never existed Fodder for the fanciful devil Terror for the trembling weak Remembrances dance memories Can't speak But what is the voice When it has nothing to say? When it has nothing to say at all? And encouragement, What is encouragement, But someone else's attempt to fall? There was dew on the tree from Last nights rain It trickled down the banister Cool, quiet, and wet as I made my Out A woman crossed the street weeping She was meeting a man She honestly didn't want to see And these are the people that live with Encouragement "Go get'em!" attitudes Faking clear eyed Fanaticism for the ends meat For the prize For the win Winning in a land that produces Corrupt meals On Wheels That shoots bullets towards men of Change and honor and Liberty That breathes down the necks of back breaking Men and women that have just Nothing, no nothing at All To suffer here is to live correct Flipping a silver coin toward a burnt buttered toast sky Is to live high Is to live quiet high Is to live So one can die
Written by
ashby-brown
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 7:51 AM UTC
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