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mark-john-junor-1Poems
the metal man sits in the nights comforting shadows only the utterances of his steam engine soul reveal his presence phrases like prayers still fall from cold lips on his polished bronze face but the conviction they once held now bitter and faded taste of rust and tainted oils the metal mans hand twitches and folds on the armchairs rest unconsciously seeking the comforts of its creators hand seeking comfort and absolution at the counsel of soulless pity this dark creature stitched in misery's shadows his metal heart labours on to his fate like the mindless apostles of hate but neath that cold dark lens lives a soul no man or woman is beyond redemption none can speak to that tale that have not walked its bitter road pity this dark beast as much as you ware its hand we are all children neath the anvil of the sun we are all born innocent we all die alone the metal man now unmoving silence slowly spreads over him as the rust of the living world creeps upon and claims him i stand there next to him watching the fires of his engine dim and flicker watching as the phrases like prayers falling coldly from his brass carved lips slowly trickle to a halt as his will returns to the sand that created him pity this creature as much as you ware his dark hand the darkly world comes lens of his eye dose not perceive you only what its design impels it to believe only the tissue of lies that are its dreams sanguine the metal man now rust comes undone
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
sanguine its metal...part two
the metal man sits in the nights comforting shadows only the utterances of his steam engine soul reveal his presence phrases like prayers still fall from cold lips on his polished bronze face but the conviction they once held now bitter and faded taste of rust and tainted oils the metal mans hand twitches and folds on the armchairs rest unconsciously seeking the comforts of its creators hand seeking comfort and absolution at the counsel of soulless pity this dark creature stitched in misery's shadows his metal heart labours on to his fate like the mindless apostles of hate but neath that cold dark lens lives a soul no man or woman is beyond redemption none can speak to that tale that have not walked its bitter road pity this dark beast as much as you ware its hand we are all children neath the anvil of the sun we are all born innocent we all die alone the metal man now unmoving silence slowly spreads over him as the rust of the living world creeps upon and claims him i stand there next to him watching the fires of his engine dim and flicker watching as the phrases like prayers falling coldly from his brass carved lips slowly trickle to a halt as his will returns to the sand that created him pity this creature as much as you ware his dark hand the darkly world comes lens of his eye dose not perceive you only what its design impels it to believe only the tissue of lies that are its dreams sanguine the metal man now rust comes undone
mark-john-junor-1
Written by
mark-john-junor-1
59/M/American
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
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