Poetry...again
Well, it's over. My writers craft class came to a close today and with it, a plethora of beautiful sparks will have been extinguished. I thought to myself what I should do, and I figured that since my poetry will NOT be posted for a little while (mainly cause of an increasing lack of it) I may as well post the last spark. This, my friends, is for the word falling.
Falling
No longer can I run
Falling
My life is nearly done
Falling
and in your arms I pray
Falling
This madness won't fade away
Earth
I have landed on solid ground
Solid hate
For your mind is full of it
I attempt to dig deeper
To reach the plate
that holds the poisoned supper
The corrupter of all mankind
Lies locked away in time
I see the pain in your eyes
I see the pain of his lies
I feel terror growing stronger
I feel panic getting longer
And now
Silence
I alone have been able to unlock the ceremony of humanity
The ritual that binds us together
The fear of unholy rule.
A deathly pool
Of blood
I alone have survived my own funeral
Watched as my body was buried
And stood by to see you cry
No ghost can claim to feel my pain
No soldier has that honour
No preist can lead my on my way
I have no holy father
This work you read
Is a deadly seed
Spreading horror to your soul
So when I die
You'll realize
My truth has made you whole
You may think
I'm disjointed in my speech
But trust that I am not
Every word is conected
Every line is a story
and every life is a million tales.
Falling
No longer can I run
Falling
My life is nearly done
Falling
and in your arms I pray
Falling
This madness won't fade away
Earth
I have landed on solid ground
Solid hate
For your mind is full of it
I attempt to dig deeper
To reach the plate
that holds the poisoned supper
The corrupter of all mankind
Lies locked away in time
I see the pain in your eyes
I see the pain of his lies
I feel terror growing stronger
I feel panic getting longer
And now
Silence
I alone have been able to unlock the ceremony of humanity
The ritual that binds us together
The fear of unholy rule.
A deathly pool
Of blood
I alone have survived my own funeral
Watched as my body was buried
And stood by to see you cry
No ghost can claim to feel my pain
No soldier has that honour
No preist can lead my on my way
I have no holy father
This work you read
Is a deadly seed
Spreading horror to your soul
So when I die
You'll realize
My truth has made you whole
You may think
I'm disjointed in my speech
But trust that I am not
Every word is conected
Every line is a story
and every life is a million tales.