Members
Makati City, RP
One day, all of these will be music.
New Orleans
I love helping people, and if my words can do that then my job is done.
Poems
GaryFairy Sep 2015
burdened purpose
GaryFairy
Sep 2015
what makes a person worthy or worthless?
murmuring burden and hearse certain curses
first in the furnace for the hurt or the nervous
on verges of searches for earthly purpose
what makes a people deceiving and evil?
mistreating their equal and beating the feeble
bleeding of demons and beasts of the lethal
there's a reason to believe in eden of peaceful
what makes a person worthy or worthless?
versus urges emerge first on the surface
bird of the furthest turns and then merges
on verges of surges of a worthy purpose
murmuring burden and hearse certain curses
first in the furnace for the hurt or the nervous
on verges of searches for earthly purpose
what makes a people deceiving and evil?
mistreating their equal and beating the feeble
bleeding of demons and beasts of the lethal
there's a reason to believe in eden of peaceful
what makes a person worthy or worthless?
versus urges emerge first on the surface
bird of the furthest turns and then merges
on verges of surges of a worthy purpose
i worked with "er" and long "e" vowel sounds
James Joyce Jun 2009
Nightpiece
Gaunt in gloom,
The pale stars their torches,
Enshrouded, wave.
Ghostfires from heaven's far verges faint illume,
Arches on soaring arches,
Night's sindark nave.
Seraphim,
The lost hosts awaken
To service till
In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,
Raised when she has and shaken
Her thurible.
And long and loud,
To night's nave upsoaring,
A starknell tolls
As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
Voidward from the adoring
Waste of souls.
The pale stars their torches,
Enshrouded, wave.
Ghostfires from heaven's far verges faint illume,
Arches on soaring arches,
Night's sindark nave.
Seraphim,
The lost hosts awaken
To service till
In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,
Raised when she has and shaken
Her thurible.
And long and loud,
To night's nave upsoaring,
A starknell tolls
As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
Voidward from the adoring
Waste of souls.