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ashby-brownPoems
Visions in the breeze A tree on a broken horizon Each wave a shout From the past to the future A call heard only by The one's truly listening Tipping point mathematics Love has and always will be Trial and unforgivable error Hearing the door open as Echoing empty steps chime Like the first poets to ever write a rhyme Or an innocent man put to death Falsely accused of another one's crime Each order put into bolts and gears Wear me thin and rattle me to the bone I've made a mistake, I'm no longer here My feet are crooked and I feel queer Each note I hear is out of tune as the saloon Has started to bend backward The light under the fan spins Chopping my sight clean in two The blue creole sky enlivens my senses As youth dances and gyrates restless And effortless like one's first fall into love A case for the weak As the strong get along No dust in their fingertips Their stomachs always full As the poor feel the pull Into the road to the grave Put the ear to the snowy hills of Eastern Europe Make sure your boots are tied And your pen hand is steady, unwilling to lie Afraid of consequences is to be human But to be afraid of a life without them Is to tie the stitch to tight around the hem There is choice And then There is responsibility The routine Of our lives rely On the choices we made Due to responsibility Guilt and learned' reason Forget reason Forget thy' guilt Forfeit the old For the new You know truth More than I
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
Forfeiting the Old
Visions in the breeze A tree on a broken horizon Each wave a shout From the past to the future A call heard only by The one's truly listening Tipping point mathematics Love has and always will be Trial and unforgivable error Hearing the door open as Echoing empty steps chime Like the first poets to ever write a rhyme Or an innocent man put to death Falsely accused of another one's crime Each order put into bolts and gears Wear me thin and rattle me to the bone I've made a mistake, I'm no longer here My feet are crooked and I feel queer Each note I hear is out of tune as the saloon Has started to bend backward The light under the fan spins Chopping my sight clean in two The blue creole sky enlivens my senses As youth dances and gyrates restless And effortless like one's first fall into love A case for the weak As the strong get along No dust in their fingertips Their stomachs always full As the poor feel the pull Into the road to the grave Put the ear to the snowy hills of Eastern Europe Make sure your boots are tied And your pen hand is steady, unwilling to lie Afraid of consequences is to be human But to be afraid of a life without them Is to tie the stitch to tight around the hem There is choice And then There is responsibility The routine Of our lives rely On the choices we made Due to responsibility Guilt and learned' reason Forget reason Forget thy' guilt Forfeit the old For the new You know truth More than I
Written by
ashby-brown
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
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