"nein" poems
Stress
Jeden Tag
Stress
Ich kann nicht mehr
Es ist 5 Uhr morgens
Mein Wecker klingelt
Ich will aber noch weiterschlafen
Mindesten noch 5 Minuten
Das geht aber nicht
Sonst verpass ich noch den Bus
Ich komm an
Wieder Schule
Ich kann nicht mehr
Es reicht
Ich hab kein Bock
Ich muss aber durchziehen
Nur noch 2 Jahre
Dann bin ich endlich fertig
Dann zieh ich endlich weg
Aber dann geh ich in die Uni
Ich weiß nicht mal was ich studieren will
Noch mehr Stress
Und danach?
Arbeiten
Arbeiten bis ich sterbe
Wieder Stress
Vielleicht sogar noch mehr
Man kann dem stress nicht entgehen
Oder?
Kann ich dagegen was machen?
Kann ich den Stress ausweichen?
Nein
Das geht nicht
Denn Stress bleibt
Es ist so wie ein Kaugummi den man nicht abbekommt
Es ist so wie ein Monster das dir hinter läuft
Es ist Stress
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
. tiky torches, and not football hooligan red flares?! i want gnashing teeth.... the red worm... i want the crude.... waiting feud!
you, don't, make,
dictum, in, this,
part, of, the world!
nein!
you, can, have,
your women!
but, not, the, ego,
of males!
**** you, and your
colonialist past
rewrite!
**** you...
dr. dre, ******
so no, what becomes
musicological
click-bait?!
****** ****** yo **
******* term
gets... owned?!
like *vomito *****
making reference
to the black plague?!
you do your ****** bit,
i do mine...
and we meet in the middle...
and then...
we crash and burn...
for whatever it's worth...
now catch me petting
rottweilers...
heavy headed
craniums...
ready to bullwhip
a gnash of a raiding bullish
cranium head-butt...
just, gagging,
to perform,
the jaw-swapping gnash!
sure... big, bogus,
jaw dropping crude...
of a count of teeth...
but...
i'm itching...
itching to fasten onto a feast
of a fist;
not in eastern europe, ******
you come here...
you play by our rules...
the whole
anti-rap...
the whole
hip hop scene of Warsaw...
no, not really...
i'm not exactly
part of either, "scene"...
god...
i haven't even allowed myself
to use edgy words...
girl worth a *****
but to succumb to motherhood?
i'm a heavy drinker,
i'm not exactly the moralizer;
wrap up, clean the shit-show...
and forget i even
managed to circumstance
a narrative.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
She's not made for this world
She deserves nothing but love
But she's already full of it—
She's gold-flowing!
Too soft to be touched,
Too fragile to be held,
And too transparent to be seen.
Her self-love is doubtful
Though she's overflowing with love,
She care too much
For the wrong people
Only if she could see
What she's made of
Only if I could make her see
What her worth is
She could devour her remorse and escape,
Runaway and save herself from this unworthy world
Even if it means not being with me
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
The Summer Alphabet of Woman
Every summer, I learn a new language.
Every winter, it departs for warmer climes,
And its charms and naked arms, its own alphabet,
clean forgot.
Multi-lingual in the summer's peculiar
One language, one aleph bet,
But mega-millions of dialects,
Know them all cold, know them all, hot.
I speak Woman.
Summer is soft, shapely, sweet,
Clean, bare, lush in a sparse way,
And Woman is spoken thusly.
There are no harsh sounds,
Guttural exclamations, nein!
I speak Woman.
There is no ugly in the summer.
Ugly being an ugly word.
It cannot exist in an atmosphere of
Sun, greenery, sand, carefree days, vacations, no school.
There are no ugly women in the summer.
I could take this writ many places,
But if you are sputtering sexist or other labeling words,
Could not give a good god **** because in the summer,
There is no ugly, there is no prejudice.
And I still speak
Woman with an almost perfect fluency,
au naturel.
Gym clothes, short shorts, A-line skirts swishing in the breeze,
High, god, so high the heels, flats clip clopping, flip flopping
all over my heart,
But, it is the bare arms and the hints of summer
Cleavage, the short skirts, body hugging one piece fabrics
stretching from here to down there that does not
Hint,
the shoulder strap of the underthings that asks,
that commands me,
to wonder where it leads too...
Even the light wrap at night mocks me,
Like gift wrapping with a smile demure...a teasing blindfold...
All these say:
Write us poetry in our very own tongue,
Woman.
Will oblige.
I curve with curve of the ***** and
invert with S arc of the waist,
Mystifying, how it is the designed place
For my hands to grasp, and never fails.
The crayola colors of flesh variations,
Boggle the senses... How can tan and pale,
Dark and Light
Have so many
Symphonic variations?
Adagio, slow and leisurely, a pas de deux
For two eyes, then a
Timpani crash and thunder, as
Byron wrote,
"music arose with its voluptuous swell,"
Yes, swell...swell...swell
Enough.
My eloquence, no match for my
Fluency.
Late August, and my vocabulary is already
Diminishing.
I forget how to say in
Woman
*Without you I am nothing,
With you, I am more than everything,*
Tho I can no longer say it,
It is is still true and
Beyond belief.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
sehnsucht nach einer person, würden menschen es in
worte fassen, dessen gebrauch sie gar nicht kennen.
oh nein, ich habe keine sehnsucht nach einer person –
ich habe heimweh. ich habe mich bei ihm – und
zwar egal wo: im bus, oder auch in einen dunkeln
raum, der gähnend leer ist, außer zwei personen
und eine handvoll worte, denen ich mich nicht
entziehen kann – mehr geborgen gefühlt, als
in meinen eigenen heim.
denn zu hause ist kein ort, sondern ein gefühl.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
oh **** off...
migrant crisis my ***
what with Ukraine
happening?
East European...
how about western women?
Manchester mothers?
no?
oh well....
watch my face...
do i ******* look
like i, might, care?!
no... no?!
well...
thank you...
because?
i don't!
i'm thinking: let them
**** your harlots...
you managed to call my ethnicity,
vermin.... RATS....
whatever ally you
had... gone...
next time you ask, ask
a Pakistani to deal with your women...
i'll be most obliged...
to tell you:
**** OFF!
no... you told me once,
you do not assert the stature of telling me
twice...
i don't care whether it is
or whether it isn't your island...
you violated, or at least your
citizen, the rules of p4rivate property...
no...
nein nein nein!
for once i'll turn the volume
to a Reading Park volume:
**** you!
and your ambitions
of a mastering of the races...
claiming quasi Boar fixture;
******* capitalists...
with their made in china of
what used to be the manufacturing jobs...
arbeit macht frei...
arbeit macht frei...
arbeit ist frei...
mein, mein, herr...
made in china..
my *** my *** was made in china...
your argument for liberty?
hardly comprised in Monaco.
yes, those Eastern European
women...
pretty much as those ***** whip
Western European men...
the sort of men:
shy of death...
one you almost
wish to **** with a bludgeon
that might leave fingerprints;
lesson no. 1...
you come after Eastern European women...
lesson no. 2:
there are no Western European
"men" to come after...
sure... *******
little men...
something between
petting an in between
petting a panda and a koala;
totally castrato,
just the way Western Women like
their men to be...
obedient...
pussy-whipped...
leashed.
mind you...
what are the thoughts
of an Eastern European man
concerning Western women?
and, why,
would, i, heaven, and, hell,
on, earth, ever,
want, to, **** this,
exercise, in, making,
equivalent, raising,
a, ******* brat?!
i don't want these women,
no more than the women
want me...
apparently Pakistanis are
in higher demand.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
We bebopped
along the Straße,
full of the finest hops,
higher than kites,
enamored with
everything Deutsch.
Everywhere we went,
the deejays
spun the Beatles & Stones,
as if we were Brits,
when we were actually
Yanks & nein GI's,
Ich bin students!
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Si la muerte no es la solo gracia, estamos solos.
Siempre de, nosotros es uno si de todos solamente muertes
todo en gracia de estamos solamente,
solo de nosotros, todos nosotros,
solo que si muertamos es la solo gracia nos encontramos con.
Si la muerte es la única gracia, estamos unidos.
Esta en contra del sentido visión duele como mirando hacia el sol.
Ceguera, es siempre difícil de entender-
para los cuerdos que no puede ver con ojos normales
Sabiduría es en sus sin ayuda de cielo corazon
y sus monstruo cabeza el reconocer la realidad de duele,
con ojos por dentro y afuera de, la mente
Mirando hacia del sol puede ciegos que de lo falso, así.
Unser ist mit treue halten liebe die genug zwei Toden heilig
wobei einander der zwei toden beide schaden aus Liebe
Doch dass zweite Tod ist meine schade
Dies zweite Tod ist die eine freude
Wenn erst eine Tod ist die dass ist Sein lieblos, nein liebe
Das die tod ist bis die einen toden der alles
nicht Zu vergleichen
nun ist Tod bis euchen eine freude?
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
Our golden world has a twisted spine
It's face is darkened with a shadowed mind
The fault in the stars of human kind
Manipulating each other time after time
Upon our children's corpses with greed we shall dine
When indifference wins, the corporations deny
Like an angered child shreaking "NEIN!"
Here stands the hooded mask of a darkened face
The familiar truth of our beautiful race
Passing slowly, painfully with time
Will go the golden world with the twisted spine
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
I USED TO THINK THAT DOGS THOUGHT IN ENGLISH,
BUT, OF COURSE, IT COULD BE GERMAN OR SPANISH,
IF YOU TELL THEM TO SIT, THEY MAY NOT RESPOND,
JUST RUN AWAY TO THE BACK OF BEYOND;
I'M LOOKING UP 'SIT,' IN RUSSIAN, 'GET OFF
THAT ****** CHAIR,' IN CROATIAN AND 'COME
HERE, THERE'S A GOOD BOY' AND 'WELL DONE,'
PERHAPS WE JUST NEED AN 'ESPERANTO' SO
THAT THEY WILL ALL DO AS THEY'RE TOLD,
OTHERWISE WE WON'T LET THEM COME IN FROM THE COLD,
'STAY,' IN SWEDISH COULD MAKE THEM PEEVISH,
'FRIEND,' IN SWAHILI COULD MAKE THEM AN ENEMY,
WE DON'T WANT THEM TO BARK, MOPE AND PINE,
DON'T FORGET THE MAGIC COMMAND - 'NEIN, NEIN, NEIN!'
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 12:58 AM UTC
So I said to this German chappie
If there were ten green bottles hanging on the wall
and one green bottle should accidentally fall
how many green bottles would there be
hanging on the wall,
you do speak English?
Nein he said
So I turned to this Frenchman I said
There's a strange smell around here
Don't you think?
He said oui
I said I think you're right old son
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
interfere journey body sweaty mastermind dust
dummy\
inhale shale bond reason oxidize crummy
read write swell\
ready curve encrypt slime minus shell heady set
flow sacrifice\
believe alter oceanic shelf killing part of Hell split Earth lent
mayhem vent\
outspent wipe well being clean provoke Cain uphold Able
mean mug\
dump cornmeal unicorn convulsing mend restitution advertently
spiel indent\
hand over to pilot retribution intend empty zeal rummage
destitution\
Hasidic inside the writ spirit fly guide escape unravel ways of
savage\
lives out the side Pegasus soar glide abide Nein but fine rhyme
hymns\
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
when teenagers "think" they can
take over the "internet"...
from us... the 20th century
teenager pioneers...
you're kidding me, right?!
**** it, let's get delusional:
i am the shadow at the birth
of dawn,
i am the shadow on the moon's
face...
i am, i am, i am...
the hunting figment
of your imagination....
teens don't own the internet...
freaks, geeks,
pioneers...
these softball parenting skills
and their *******
wait wait...
you let them snap-chat...
and at the same time censor?!
swoon-smooch-flake
these ********
you have to be kidding me...
no, you, seriously,
have to, be, kidding, me....
next time i hear,
growing a beard will be deemed
offensive...
******* snowflakes...
that's what calling us millennial(s)
your "supposed children":
how about?
**** you!
i'm tired of listening to
20th century artifacts!
tired of them giving their
tenure of insurance!
tired of them propagating
Jane Eyre rather than
Frankenstein!
begotten not made,
forthwith:
with no one uttered to be
sanctified to be made to serve!
i am: übergebieter....
i serve no belittling English
feudalism...
nein! nein nein nein!
**** my **** and call me Charlie...
you! ******* English!
ponce!
für meine vater!
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Interfere journey Interference body Sweaty Write Mud
mind Breath getty Read Reference speed Preference encryp
To Two Time Self ready flow sacrifice beliefs feeling elf pelt
killing part of myself scuffing dreams bare in the air unfair
outspent **** wiped well being clean provoked hell feeding on mean cornmeal convulsing restitution fed invertly beans bent
soul over to pilot retribution empty zeal stomach destitution
inside the pit spirit fly guide escape veal travel ways of savage meal
out the side five wing soar glide abide Nein but fine wine being shine
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
Schade.
Echt schade.
Schade
um dich
für dich
auf dich.
Schaden
bei dir
von dir
in dir.
Du bist schade für mich.
Wie schade.
Echt zu schade.
Jeder wer dich liebt
wird geschadet sein;
ist heute froh
wird morgen leiden.
So ist es gewesen,
also wird es immer sein.
Ich hab es miterleben,
hatte ihr zugehören,
war glücklich genug zu ihr zugehören,
und hab seit damit aufgehört;
und hab seit selbst davon angehört-
Stell dir das vor!
Zu schade.
Echt schade.
Stell dir das vor!
Du hast uns als Spielzeuge angesehen.
Du hast uns als verzichtbar angesehen.
Stell dir das vor!
War selbst glücklich genug dazu zugehören.
Jeder, wer dich liebt
wird geschadet sein
wird im Arsch gebissen
wird vergiftet sein
Jeder, wer dich liebt,
wird Mitleid kriegen,
doch nicht von dir
doch ja dienetwegen.
Tanz.
Tanz zu der Musik.
Tanz zu der Musik deiner Exen.
Tanz zu der Musik du anregtest.
Leider, sie sind nicht Liebelieder.
Nein, sie sind nicht Liebelieder.
Leid, sie sind doch Leidlieder.
Wegen Seelenqual geschrieben.
So ist es gewesen,
so wird es immer sein.
Stell dir das vor!
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
Would you respect my will to leave this mortal coil?
Could you understand your reflection is your foil?
Can you accept the demons as your own?
Accept you are alone,
And atone for your heart of stone?
To find the battle you've fought, hard and strong
Meant nothing in the long run?
You had your fun.
The sun is long gone,
And the one
Thing you had left,
You threw away.
Deal with another day.
There's no way.
You're not okay
Not fine.
Not mine.
So divine.
Nein.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
You are encased in your world of flower;
Whilst I suffer in the pit below
that wolf at the door is me.
He is the leader of my pack
and when he howls others follow in tick tack
tight formation, his howl has rendered cowards
to fits of madness, coward!
I am that too he says? hahaha!
A fit of vortex light burning brightly over there, you fool!
Screams the wolf,
'you do not know the box you have opened!'
'I do!'
I have opened the post it says sickness and fit,
a spice awakening in Sheffield, and not just the drugs
not working in Manchester,
as Ashcroft once sang banging his shoulders
into every passer by, why? For the hell of it,
take no prisoners, proper Manc wolf style.
And I will burn your souls with words, O burn those bridges burn;
I will crush you with every click of the typewriter
you seek to burn me, call me drunk and ****** and fool,
I forget you! ha! Neit papa! Neit Mama!
Da Christopher! I have made such art and wonders
so see I am not to be taken lightly.
I have danced with death, not once but twice
and lived to tell the tale, captured foes forever
their grimaces frozen in time.
In the dead of night when I have no desire
for both shallow words and drunken wounds and late night calling-
your 'fatal fallacies'
I will burn these images and all the old
word scribbled in spider handwriting
by me that eldest poet, and soul.
That fire shall bring solace.
I hate you, as much as I hate myself;
forever smoking in the corner
and laughing at deaths wings,
as it winks at me underneath
cloaked eyes of shallow indifference -
Off with you and your 'perfect' life too.
Bitter wolf blinks, and cannot sleep,
Oh look how I am red and rendered, insomnia
red eyed and twitching, shocks all over sighs the poet,
Never call me again, drunken witches. Vampires
and bloodsuckers.
Alive still and struggling against the call
of it. Defiantly myself, whilst others crawl
to the windowpane of the widows to cradle the light.
I am encased in darkness, and search for my window-
fools allay me from my path, winding, twisting to
love.
I am burning. This fire it will not cease, this is
the end. My first friend, thrown to the fire,
her fate is sealed, she is undoubtedly married.
My pack is pleased, and giggle in the night,
drunk on the strength of passion! and *****
ACC WOO AGH
Nein Nein Nein
Neit! Da! Da!
I grin through bared teeth,
Always gnashing and grinding.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
Ich suche das Licht im offenen Feld
Doch sehe nur den Schatten
Von Bäumen hinter meinen Rücken
Meine Füsse getauft in Erdscholle
Die Fragen in mir optisch dargestellt
Nicht, dass ich den Weg verloren habe
Oder ich meinen Geist schwer
Auf mein Leben drücke
Nein, es ist die Sucht
Nach Weisheit was treibt;
Klarheit in Worten
Die Wahrheit hinter Reden
Oder das Leben nach dem Tod
Kurz gesagt, was findet man
Wenn man sieht durch das Fenster
Einer verborgenen Pforte
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
First posted here on August 22, 2013
~~~~~
Every summer, I relearn a new language.
Every winter, it departs for warmer climes,
And its charms and naked arms,
Its own alphabet,
Clean forgot.
Multi-lingual in the summer's peculiar
One language, one aleph bet,
But mega-millions of dialects,
Know them all cold, know them all, hot.
I speak Woman.
Summer is soft, shapely, sweet,
Clean, bare, lush in a sparse way,
And Woman is spoken thusly.
There are no harsh sounds,
Guttural exclamations, nein!
I speak Woman.
There is no ugly in the summer.
Ugly being an ugly word.
It cannot exist in an atmosphere of
Sun, greenery, sand, carefree days, vacations, no school.
There are no ugly women in the summer.
I could take this writ many places,
But if you are sputtering sexist or other labeling words,
Could not give a good god **** because in the summer,
There is no ugly, there is no prejudice.
And I still speak
Woman with an almost perfect fluency,
au naturel.
Gym clothes, short shorts, A-line skirts swishing in the breeze,
High, god, so high the heels, flats clip clopping, flip flopping
all over my heart,
But, it is the bare arms and the hints of summer
Cleavage, the short skirts, body hugging one piece fabrics
stretching from here to down there that do not
Hint,
The shoulder strap of the underthings that asks,
That commands me:
Wonder where it leads too...
Even the light shoulder wrap
Casual over bare shoulders slung, at night, mocks me,
Like gift wrapping with a smile demure...a teasing blindfold...
All these say:
Write us poetry in our very own tongue,
Woman.
Will oblige.
I curve with curve of the ***** and
invert with S arc of the waist,
Mystifying, how it is the designed place
For my hands to grasp, and never fails.
The crayola colors of flesh variations,
Boggle the senses... How can tan and pale,
Dark and Light
Have so many
Symphonic variations?
Adagio, slow and leisurely, a pas de deux
For two eyes, then a
Timpani crash and thunder,
Just as Byron wrote:
"music arose with its voluptuous swell,"
Yes, swell...swell...voluptuous swell
Enough.
My eloquence, no match for my
Fluency.
Late August, and my vocabulary is already
Diminishing.
I forget how to say in
Woman
Without you I am nothing,
With you, I am more than everything,
Tho I can no longer say it well,
It is is still true and
Beyond belief.
August 2013
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
may my grief residue to no depth sunken into as worth being kept,
but let it reside in falcon wing, ever rising higher
from such burial grounds as to be ennobled by wing
as once ennobled by thought, in kindred with soul,
and levied with tongue lip and kiss a bellowing hark and hiss
chimera beast loved for a minute of its existence;
nein! nein! a third nein be a minded counter well worth a find of an aye;
i too will regret a veto on the life i wished to commence
death-like in a wandering quote in the book of job,
but the new testament jested worse with the commence
of being crucified asking of self-belief as crucible -
and all adventure collapsed into fictive visionaries relegating
the chances of such experiences ever taking place,
as about adventurous as flipping pages: hence
escapist realism.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
*ich bin nein sympathisant,
bin ernst betreffen (verb without
adjective modulation):
https://goo.gl/h0VEjA.*
as the solid red partisans' plague
brought a censor to emerge from a
politico volcano -
dehumanised with the plucking
of petted eyes of cats out to engage
dehumanisation of man against man -
should it be a lessened esteem -
then iron swastikas may be readied now -
SALUTE! SALUTE! AVE HERR EMPEROR
CHARLIE CHAPLIN!
i love comedy, the last refinement
teasing the lineage of what's taboo;
and the last survivor of the tank dubbed
fury was a coward -
in death as in coordinate we came to press
a bleeding wound with our hand -
but not a retreat of hopes,
as the soldiery faction came to revise
a return to the everyday,
once in the ***** of Mars, forever in
the twin wombs of Mars's quest for continual war
in the eyes, for once in the ***** of Mars
a homosexual in the hands of Venus,
bruderschaft die für immer -
but as said... die Eisen Hakenkreuz...
the iron ******** with India sleeping
into a populace of over one billion -
the Roma beggar playing the Accordion
while the ᛋᛋ men marched to a drumbeat of
*wo wir sind da geht's immer vorwärts,
und der teufel der lacht nur dazu!
aha, ha, ha, ha, ha!*
insomniac buggers, with amphetamine injections
while the opposing side tamed a lack
of courage with alcohol; these beggars
with the amphetamines like the Luftwaffe
and the caliphate soldiers of twins Syria and Iraq
among the bookmarks of the 21st century,
conspiracy theories and 24 years without sleep
after the Vietnam war - ingesting serotonin tablets
to provide the natural equilibrates of sleeping.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
Wenn es dich trifft wie aus dem Nichts,
dieser Moment hart wie ein Schlag
"Oh Nein", zuerst das Opfer spricht,
will niemand doch des Schmerzes leiden.
Doch hat der Schock sein positives
zum Denken er anregen mag
der Reflektion sei wahr geholfen
Trotz Schmerz, es ist ein schöner Tag.
Der Mensch sich sehr oft ungewiss,
was soll er tun mit seiner Zeit
Entscheidungen, zu oft befragt
konfrontiert mit Einsamkeit
Das Paradox des Lebens ist
wer sind wir, was soll ich tun?
Doch fällt die Lösung auch so schwer
jeder steckt in eignen Schuh'n
Schau vorwärts, denn nur dort kannst finden
dein Glück wenn du noch suchend bist
Bleib dir stets treu was auch geschehe
des Rätsel's Schlüssel in dir ist
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
ich liebe dich.
!
!
!
sprichst du deutsch?
nein?
OK...
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
In the deadest night on Whistle Hill
a ghostly fog did give me chills
for through the misty, twisting white
I saw swing fro some wild eyes.
Thence broke through a face near cold
yet in his depths was gleaming bold
the darkest shine, did'st tell me nein
stay back, the sloe claims wild eyes.
How I knew, the choice was his
for eyes as those are short to live
but what he wished, I did decide
I thought afraid, his wild eyes
Why shun't he change his look on time
for dark's not dark but in the night
I reached through mist, and soothed his cry
his life had left him child eyes
For child eyes have yet to see
they think they're wild, search for free
they look for lifeless peace of mind
evolving into wild eyes
So now a man on Whistle Hill
searches long, through wind and chill
for'is eyes of old, the quitting kind
lest he might save, those wild eyes.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC