"preculiar" poems
By the soul and it's order and porportion given to it
Inspired by it's wickness and righteousness each spirit strives
for it's own clear goal, wether that be nihilistic in some eyes,
or of great worth to others, each soul has been brought with
the greatest of purity at its time of birth.
Corrupting it is as simple as purifying it, but the evil, shades,
seduces tempts and leads astray to which a soul poorly responds.
Desires, wishes, hopes and dreams of them differ in many unique,
fantastic or irritational, preculiar and dark.
However, each spirit of a living being shares one similarity,
It is, as simple as it may appear, just the wish and dream to live
a life in carefree attitudes and a happy manner.
Of course, wealth too is amongst those shared desires, but this
world is cruel, brutal and shows no mercy as others have too much
and others have almost none at all.
Oh you of humble birth, patience, tollerance, compassion, love are
making this world a better place.
So give from your wealth and purify your soul by such,
in the remembrance of the poor, oppressed, depressed, abused,
starving human beings, whom could at least have it a little better.
And each soul runs on a clear course, determined to meet it's fate
when the sunset of its life has arrived and death becomes a cover.
~ Umi
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
Cosmic deities play us for a fool
Fate has her preculiar ways
Of twirling threads with nothing as tool
Twists, and joy or dread it brings 'til end of days
On the rainy days of September
As the witching number strikes
A present from the skies, I remember
And a feeling in my heart, unexpectedly hikes
Majestic, she was from another realm
With spires and chandeliers tall
And valiant loyal men guard the helm
As echoes rang harmoniously across the hall
But Love pulled me effortlessly
From the pyres of Friendship, I hold
Towards the inferno of Love I dipped carelessly
And alas, I was changed, I was told
Echoing screams of denial rang
As I clutch the doorway of abyss
The reality of our inevitable end hang
And I pray that the binding arrows will miss
Love is a sweet spring song, I was told
But lies, herecies, foolishness under the mask
It was useless to conquer and be bold
To expect colors in future and ask
The wise says 'Love conquers all'
But in truth, all conquers love
As I voiced my feelings and how I fall
All I received was a crow under the feathers of a dove
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 6:53 AM UTC