"impose" poems
*The poverty of yesterday was less squalid than the poverty we purchase with our industry today.
Fortunes were smaller then as well.*
(The Elderly Lady)
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…
With every good-bye you learn.
{…}
*As I think of the many myths, there is one that is very harmful, and that is the myth of countries. I mean, why should I think of myself as being an Argentine, and not a Chilean, and not an Uruguayan.
I don't know really.
All of those myths that we impose on ourselves — and they make for hatred, for war, for enmity — are very harmful.
Well, I suppose in the long run, governments and countries will die out and we'll be just, well, cosmopolitans.* --J. L. Borges
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
I want to take your attention
and send in a direction
that takes you away
and changes you mindset
for the rest of the day
the thoughts alone
leaving you in disarray
getting you hot
your ***** simmer
the longer the thoughts saute
looking at the clock
as the seconds slowly tick away
imagining my fingers
as they slowly strip away
the folds of your clothes
right down to your lingerie
slowly I impose, as I take the long way
watching you implode, got me thinking you want to play
fingers linger up your thighs as they park valet
triggers trigger your insides, and your body will obey
these thoughts I portray, in a portrait way
got your body speaking languages, how ever they may convey
I read every single word elaborately; until you are my favorite essay
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Ask me who is the most generous man I know and I shall speak his name
Ask me who is the most humble man I know and him I shall acclaim
Ask me who is the most altruistic man I know and his face shall be on the frame
Ask me who is the most kindhearted man I know and you will hear his name again
In my life, I've never met anyone like him again
A man devoted to his family and his community
Always preaching the word of God and leading us to felicity
Always ready to sacrifice his needs for the sake of love and unity
He taught us family, love, fraternity, forgiveness, religion, compassion, tolerance, peace and generosity
I am who I am today thanks to his teachings
He was a leader, a guide, our role model
There is no one like him
He was a father, a brother, a friend, a companion, a grandfather
16 years since he is gone but his words still resonate like thunder
You are no longer here but your teachings linger
A man who was not afraid to cry when needs be but also not afraid to yell and impose order
Always playful with kids and receptive and caring with adults
I feel privileged and lucky to have known him and call him grandpa
For in my life he has played a huge and special part
The memories I will treasure and keep them in my heart
Although he is gone, we will always be together
And his spirit will live on in each one of us forever
From where he is, he is protecting us and guiding us on our way
He is praying for us everyday
He used to pray God "Let it be I who fall sick instead of one of my family member. Let it be I who die instead of someone in my family."
What kind of man wishes for that, you ask.
Someone special I will say, a man of love
And I would like to thank God above
For blessing us with this man, with his kindness and love
I truly believe that God has gifted him with something special
He taught us not to let this world be in our heart for it is not eternal
I know he is in a better place
Watching us all with a smile on his face
I hope we are making you proud from where you are
We are still crying an ocean of tears
As we feel so empty and hold many fears
If I could just turn back the time to those days you used to laugh with us and made us feel so special and loved
Those days you pretended to be in pain when we stepped on your feet while we were playing
Those days when they were only you and us in the room with your half covered grey and curled hair
Those days we used to watch tv together and whenever there was an intimate scene you screamed your favorite word "Touc" and scared us (not that I know what it means)
Time will heal so they say
And time fades away
While a part of us is taken away
I know we will meet again one day
But until that day
Know that you are truly missed
Mame Alassane Lahi whom we affectionately called Mame Rane
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
It was not a heart, beating.
That muted boom, that clangor
Far off, not blood in the ears
Drumming up and fever
To impose on the evening.
The noise came from outside:
A metal detonating
Native, evidently, to
These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming
Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense
Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men in white
Undershirts circled, tending
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
Indefatigable fact.
8k
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature
By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies
Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat
For every moment that elapses
More and more I become electrified
As in the wake of your presence
A song of budding amour is evoked
Try I may to suppress this sensation,
Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate
Please do not allow me to suffer
To languish within a plethora of
A sheer and utter coating of blindness
Darling forgive me if I impose
I avidly seek for signs of proof
To know if this is real
What would happen?
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
I want you in your purest form
celebrate your freedom, Goddess
because
what's the perfect gift, if its never been unwrapped?
maintaining my composure
only to align my truths with your contour
see, I prefer you **** and clothed at the same time
Bare it all to me
without removing a single article of clothing
reveal to me
those beautiful scars
that you got centuries ago
although
they never fully healed at all
Guide me to those beauty marks in the most unseen places
until now
I Imagine myself
carefully kissing careless bruises
left by shameless past lovers
Be real **** for me
no where to hide secrets when you're completely naked
There is a canvas between your thighs
it brings out the artist in me
and the art of your naked soul attracts me
to want to know more
Sentiments of what you've learn to conceal
from others
you show to me
transparency in your bareness
as you impose
fearlessly
carelessly
freely
fluently
in your 'NUDITY'
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
The solitude of when two hands meet garners thoughts of warmth and want for needs unspoken
I miss the days when simplicity was as common as the delicate exhale shared when two lips release from one a other
To gaze through sultry windows of the soul, soft yet weary with fervent witness, beckons notions of wanderlust to a place that shines brighter than any I've ever seen
I watch, bound by valor for not seeking more through presumptuous ineptitude; bewildered by the plight you've been mired by, I wince at the thought of harm coming to you
Your trust exudes a powerful purpose; wrought from the ashes of all that have claimed to impose before, I succumb to the surfeit of such a staggering meaning in that gift
I hold myself in bated breath for the day you would ever need my heart for your own, but stay guided to be here in spirit, ever more
Although my basic wishes be forlorn, in somber muse I find great purpose to be a part of this grand fate bestowed upon me
You are all I've ever sought; and through disbelief, I am remiss of all that's mired me before
If only, one day, perhaps we could be more..
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
scaled your apartment in one of my favorite dresses
right before sundown
watched the wind billow the blue silk up my thighs,
parachute like
as i looked down,
several stories above your neighbors
(wonder if anyone looked up)
swallowed my human fear, counted the rungs
had opened our forties prematurely in your apartment
sure didn't make climbing any easier
that big map stretched out yawning across the bricks in your living room
spotted the city you were headed for
blame it on uninformed geography but didn't
realize you'd be completely across the country
(didn't tell you but
your cat kissed my nose from the bathroom counter
while i was peeing
and i thought it was one of the most endearing things
that probably ever happened to me)
got to your roof outta breath
all adrenaline and eyes
took off that big leather jacket lined with fleece,
wrapped it around our backs and sat
facing the city you'd be leaving and i'd be entertaining
watched the traffic crawl on the BQE
the sunset bored, you spilled your beer-
kept rolling in it innocently- ******
laughing, god i just
wanted to keep touching you
couldn't decide what to eat
both didn't wanna impose
neither of us could remember the name of that tree
littering pink slippery offspring in spring
for you and me to exclaim fondness over
you were the birth of a simplicity
it was so
terribly easy to be happy
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
SOULFUL IMAGINATION
On a journey of imagination,
The wind sought an explanation
Of that loving nature
We cannot measure.
Pray tell me now,
How good is your heart,
Filled with your beloveds' love ?
“Pacific, is my heart indeed!!”
Are the words I did utter.
Above the whispering reeds
Supporting the cloudy kites
It did impose further.....
What is love?
© Perveiz Ali
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
Open your mind to wonder.
Don't close it with belief.
For the spell it puts you under makes it difficult to leave.
The road to self deception, paved with preconceived conception, makes an evolutionary blunder that much harder to believe.
But in the natural ways we suffer and the things we have achieved, I don't think we should be misplaced -- mistaking all things as perceived.
And the self-redeeming peace that lives in uttered pleas for buttered ease -- like praying for forgiveness for the feeling of appease.
Or kneeling-bound to beg facedown for children with a sickness.
(Although prayer doesn't prove to cure disease or wickedness, it seems.)
So if you ever get a chance to wander and start to see the world with wonder, don't let it slip into neglect.
Nor impose upon another what you chose when you were younger.
Don't abuse your self-respect.
Instead, just seek to be free
and find the wonder in-between.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Our wonderful ad
features full frontal nudes
of chin chiseled, eye pleasing,
ab sculptured dudes.
Our ad shows designs,
simply put: haute couture
You can find all that’s fine intertwined in brochures
that assure,
our ad is a true work of art!
Epic music composed to impose on the heart.
Cheeky infants that dance
in suggestive red glow.
Gargantuan ****
filmed up close and
S -- L -- O -- W -- M -- O
...
Our ad?
Well, by god! It’s a wonderful show!
Cinematic façade that will strike all with awe!
With a well-crafted subtext encoded within
“ALL HAIL PROSTITUTION!”
“ABORTION IS SIN!”
Action!
Gunfire!
Blood!
Severed limbs all around!
Shattered windows!
Kung-fu that exceeds speeds of sound!
Monumental achievement!
Our ad will start soon!
But before, just a word from our sponsor
Stay tuned…
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
grow a beard...
buy a jazz double-bass...
start stroking it...
attempt to look
pensive...
and then write some
Cockney
comedy... and?
**** Oxford.
**** 'em good;
can't be,
******* arsed...
where's a *******
jazz double bass
the kind i need to stand up
to play?!
where?!
gone, "nowhere"...
Achilles would sooner
find a tortoise,
you ******* half-whit
bull bullock base catcher...
yummy yummy...
no ******* double whammy
if there ain't
a greasy dough nnnnnnnn
in my mouth oozing a squid's
mating call...
from the Jules Verne estimate
of how...
big the ******* could become...
oh please...
**** is a conjunction
word...
akin to and...
spew effect,
regurgitation, founded upon...
so...
so... farting in a public place
is less offensive than
uttering a word of oath?!
**** me...
more ****
less ***** images...
i guess that's how you
habitually attack Christian
h'america...
**** **** **** and impose
a curb of a ***** show me the puppies
kitchen ***** Kentucky style
****
******* wankers...
dreaming up some ****
in long lost Cockney rhyming
slang for some:
willkommen zu verirrt amstetten...
....................
...................................
..............
................
SCHMILE...
boorish ******* gnomes dancing
the leprechaun gamblers' dance...
skivvy *************
sure...
censor the words...
but god forbid you censor
showing all the *******
because... if you do?
guess what...
i might forget my farming impulse...
of imagining a
a cleavage to also imply
a pork buttocks...
funny...
how a show of cleavage is synonymous
with a show of pork
buttocks...
and then i begin thinking of
milking...
which throws a ***** **** out
with the baby and the bathwater
and... i'm shinging...
what's that name of the place?!
New Orleans!
yeah...
like some minstrel in that
part of the world that
part of the world that's
a ********
what?!
you spew on me...
i spew on you...
we can at least exchange...
what we "love" about each other...
but i implore!
i implore!
visit Warsaw!
alone... no, not with other people...
ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e....
i'll be your companion,
when you peer at your shadow,
and attempt, to pretend,
to disappear.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
The Pen
The pick up the pen;
The put it down again
(That sunken feeling, nemesis or friend?)
The pen. The Pen.
The pacing, the pressing up against
The period. Stop stopping
Again. Pick it up to put it down.
Pointless. Pshaw.
Please.
Please me simplicity. C’mon!
C’mon pen lemme pick it up
And put something down.
I’ll plagiarize the flow for a few words of my own.
I’m looking for inspiration from the great beyond.
My muse is missing.
I know the medium is a constraint.
I know inside
The set of symbols paints
Me into a corner. The parameters
Of my pen’s head worn out. I’m ****** The metaphors
Pressed. The pen is second-guessed.
A literate piece of poetic license,
The defense mechanism
Against the prison I impose.
Me, myself, and I inside
The pen pining for a purpose.
The nexus of picking it up and putting it down
Is perplexing me, is vexing
Me like a sticky keyboard key.
So, I’m putting it all down
With the pen.
The pen.
The picking it up: who cares?
The putting it down: pensive prohibition.
The picking up; what I left out.
The putting it down: polygraph precision.
The picking up where I left off:
The putting it down: priority, what’s left of me.
The picking it up, when I don’t even know
Why I bother?
The putting it down: passion
The putting it down: plea of let me be.
The putting it down periscope; I’m diving under
The pressure’s mounting; I’m down for the counting on my muse
To bring me back
From that inky black abyss once again
My personal sonar is
Probing the depths, of what lies
hidden within
the pen.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
I
Our ****** dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.
The shades of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,
When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm,
The bones of men, the broken in their beds,
By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.
II
In this our age the gunman and his moll
Two one-dimensional ghosts, love on a reel,
Strange to our solid eye,
And speak their midnight nothings as they swell;
When cameras shut they hurry to their hole
down in the yard of day.
They dance between their arclamps and our skull,
Impose their shots, showing the nights away;
We watch the show of shadows kiss or ****
Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.
III
Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which
Shall fall awake when cures and their itch
Raise up this red-eyed earth?
Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch,
The sunny gentlemen, the Welshing rich,
Or drive the night-geared forth.
The photograph is married to the eye,
Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth;
The dream has ****** the sleeper of his faith
That shrouded men might marrow as they fly.
IV
This is the world; the lying likeness of
Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move
Loving and being loth;
The dream that kicks the buried from their sack
And lets their trash be honoured as the quick.
This is the world. Have faith.
For we shall be a shouter like the ****
Blowing the old dead back; our shots shall smack
The image from the plates;
And we shall be fit fellows for a life,
And who remains shall flower as they love,
Praise to our faring hearts.
3.7k
Please be aware, the arrogance of a Burglar
that breaks into your home and steals your
property is permissible
Please carefully note that the arrogance of a stinking bully
that oppresses you and wants to cower you down
is permissible
Please take into consideration that the arrogance of a gang
that terrorizes and bullies is permissible
Please bear in mind the arrogance of liars, twisters, slanderers
fraudsters and defamers is permissible
Please remember the arrogance of fringe lunatics to unjustly
condemn and victimize and bring chaos and destruction
to an innocent human is permissible
Please keep in your appraisals the arrogance of a misled majority
to impose, mob, obstruct, harass and hound is democracy
in action and is permissible
Please note that the arrogance and ignorance of offensively discriminating against any foreigner or minority member is permissible
Please note to work hard and earn an honest living is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to criminal bullies is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to stinking bullies is Arrogant
Please know to speak up for yourself is Arrogant
Please note to refuse to be cowered by thieves is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to be browbeaten is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to have your confidence drained is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to adversity is Arrogance
Please know to not be weak and Feeble under pressure is Arrogance
Please know to have self respect and be self assured is Arrogant
Please know to possess your own mind is Arrogance
Please know to offer as much as a squeak when being unfairly and unjustly treated is Arrogance
Above all please know that we invented the English Language and have the sole knowledge as to what constitutes Arrogance, whether you like it or not, and if you protest about that, you are ****** guilty of Arrogance...my friend!
Please be strictly conscious that Arrogance is weakness, mental weakness. Falling to the desires of our darker instincts and
succumbing to conceit and smugness.
Please pay particular attention to the salient fact that Arrogance
portraits a total lack of human decency towards other humans
Know that when arrogance ceases humanity ascends.
And we we all live in a lovely perceptibly white and wonderful world
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
my dark waters stir
turning the moon's placid reflection
into a chaotic dance of broken light
echoes of churning
deep water
saturate
and raise your foreboding laughter
up and over the old well's lips
but you will not awaken me
to burn this nightmare into my core
rather I shall sleep into dawn
awaken to a silent Sun
you once held my heart below these waters
but unlike all those that followed
I survived you
you may impose fear in the heart
of a wayward toad
or other spineless woodland creatures
but I sleep well
immune to your frozen tears
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC
429
The Moon is distant from the Sea—
And yet, with Amber Hands—
She leads Him—docile as a Boy—
Along appointed Sands—
He never misses a Degree—
Obedient to Her Eye
He comes just so far—toward the Town—
Just so far—goes away—
Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand—
And mine—the distant Sea—
Obedient to the least command
Thine eye impose on me—
3k
A short poem for all of you Special People that don't want to belong. I am a true radical. I am different. No one really knows who I am. Perhaps, this is the way I want it. Perhaps, this is "the real me."
While growing up, I too didn't "belong" and still don't. Freedom is the right to choose. Often others want to impose their will on you. Too often, it seems that external pressures force us to do things which are not always necessarily in our better interests. Peer pressure, social pressures entrap us, and we end up "going with the flow."
I went through my early education with very few friends. They were what I would define as friends of the moment. Sound advice, have many "friends," but find yourself one "true friend." This is the one to call friend for your entire life. With this true friend, you are going to grow in this world. Growing in confidence, in wisdom, in knowledge, in security and in realizing who you really are. They will be the "Real Mirror" whose reflection, in time, you will honestly be able to call your own.
**For all you radicals, there is a time to stand up and shout
refuse to belong to those that choose the easy way out
For what purpose would he decree, when G-D granted us life
if not to stand firm and avoid all forms of strife
I'm a radical, to this I must admit
always looked upon differently, as if I'm unfit
But why follow others who think they suffice
to control everyone else with the roll of their dice
Having gone through a lot, one begins to discern
there's a time for discipline, and a time for concern
Stand up and be counted, you alone have begun
to realize you can be different, and still be as one
All you radicals, to you alone do I salute
your ways may be different, but none could refute
Imagine our world, without you, what it would be
a place where individuality could never ever be Free....**
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
Your voice has a choice.
Your tongue is moist with juicy, fruitful words.
Your lips chirp like harmonious birds;
building botanical gardens inside some
beautiful person’s head somewhere.
You could distinguish old flames, smother your pride
ignore all blame… Or
you could turn something worse.
Go postal, find trouble to immerse
yourself in.
Do you even try to scale the value between a blessing and a curse?
Did it sound more exciting when I said Congratulations first?
Is your mommy and the tv well distraction from the hearse
all of us blindly ride in.
We’re born into a society claiming Life, Freedom and the pursuit of happiness.
I feel no freedom in our flags
when more blood falls on clothing tags of women who were “just asking for it”.
I’m desperately clinging onto the pursuit of happiness,
but my hands slide off like butter fingers pursuing monkey bars
The greasy kind of disappointment you can get at
McDonalds for a dollar
I’m a little confused where the donations are Ronald?
$27.6 billion in revenue,
yet every seventeen minutes
another person pursues death as if it were their
only chance of freedom
and you’re squeezing your red clown nose
thinking of what new toy to impose
on the children buying Happy Meals.
The 111th richest corporation in the nation
has the audacity to serve deep fried pink slime
and call it a happy meal.
At the same moment,
a stiff insurance business suit is denying
extended treatment to people.
People:
dying to learn how to tame the monsters in their heads,
dying to learn how harming themselves harms their families health,
dying to learn how to fight enemies who sing them to sleep at night.
Thousands of children men and women
who are in so much pain.
Plastered with close-lidded visions
nightmare doorknobs with creaking hinges.
Some violent, some explosive, some ******
ostly misunderstood combinations of the above.
Some, accidents stained with blood.
Some, knife twisting in their back, broken oaths.
There is more freedom in valuing the pursuit of life
than happiness in living for a dying pursuit
Congratulations, we live in a society
where the living die with a side order of either
painful awareness or
numb naivety.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
Some have tried to tell me
not to write as I see fit;
they wish to impose their rules and their taste
onto and into my personal expression.
My Art.
While I do always seek
honest and fair critique;
attempted Censorship
is outright offensive.
At heart, I'm a ******* Artist,
a slave only to my own Will;
not some ******* demagogue
merely sacrificing his own Quill.
**** 'em,
and their illusory book of unreal rules;
I'll write as I ******* please:
I'll write how I want
about what I want
as often as I want
on what I want
where I want
when I want,
and so can anyone else,
*or so I think.
It can be so hard to tell..*
I really hope I'm not special in that regard.
The pen is mightiest
when it refuses to compromise.
**** 'em
and their failed dogmatic domineering.
**** 'em
and their fake-ass, ego-inspired rules.
**** 'em.
Once more:
**** 'em.
And, *lest we forget;
****
the living hell
out of
them!**
(Though it would surely take a good while!)*
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
Have you wondered how tomorrow looks
When you've lied about today ?
Have you squandered opportunities
When you've refused to play ?
Have you sought the possibilities ?
Have you broken through the ruse ?
Have you shed your limitations
And tried to fill some bigger shoes ?
Will you spread your wings to fly
Across the chasm in your life ?
Have you shared your closest fears
With the one you call your wife ?
Do you long to break the mold
And try to start the day afresh ?
Is there courage there to stride out,
Have you the will to make it mesh ?
Is there a shade of self deception,
Is a colour bar installed ?
Are there feelings of inadequacy
Has your darling not yet called ?
Does your flacid nature falter
When pinned against the wall ?
Have you moments of reluctance
To recall it all, at all ?
Does it all really matter
That your world is locked within,
That the things which hold you back
Are simply things you revel in ?
That the greatest limitations
Are the ones you self impose,
That the key which locks the door
Is locked outside the door you close ?
Marshalg
reflecting@theBach
Mangere Bridge
28 July 2009
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
For those fortunate hearts
Who ignore the feeling
And for those unfortunate ones
Who impose the feeling
You'll know.
It is like forgetting the lyrics
Of your favourite song.
It is like having a cough
That just won't give up.
It is like every punch in the face
You've ever had and will ever have.
It is like forgetting midsentence
The last line of your essence.
It is like not being able to draw
What seemed perfect in your mind.
It is like the feeling you get
When you are strucked by the wind.
It is like spilling something
In your favourite shirt.
It is like a deep ache
You can't locate.
It is like loosing the last piece
Of a 1000 pieces puzzle.
It feels like falling
Without an end nor beginning
If you love someone who won't love you back.
You'll know.
It feels like everything you can think of.
Except for being loved back.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 1:22 AM UTC
The colours are not colours.
This must be a shock,
For what are they if they are not colours?
Well, colours are only colours when hit by the right light at the right moment,
But even then we all see them differently
The night is evidence of this
You look at a colour upon the light
And all you see is its representation
A beautifully hand-crafted lie
Somebody crafted these colours into it,
Magnificently sure...
But if you look upon this colour
Once the black of the night has fallen
And drained away the world
You will see
Not pretty, bright red's and blue's of innocence
But the black's and grey's of life
No matter how hard you can look
The colours will have changed,
Twisted and morfed into something unrecognisable.
A lie
This is the true truth of a colour
...It is a lie
One designed to lighten and highten
And to create the fear of truth
A concoction of the human world,
Wrought to fool and impress
To impose and to play
Playing a game that they themselves don't understand
One of tricks and illusions
One to keep you up all night writing
Simple things with lying words
Everything is a lie,
Hell, even a lie is a lie
Because when Earth is no longer fit for mankind
The sun stops spinning
And the understand of anything
We mere humans have accomplished to comprehend
Is gone
This is when everything will be nothing
There will be no nothings to interpret
Not even a few measley words
Strewn together with mace and lace
They will amount to nothing,
And yet,
The colours.
Stop to see the colours
The same ones
That lie in wait for the light
To jump and give you a fright
For one day
When the night view is never ending
You wont have the glory of being fooled or illuded
And that is the greatest part of life
That life does not really matter
So why not see what's not really there
While we still can
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC