Thunderstorms & Sunshine
I cried the river of shadows,
I forced the mind to kneel,
nothing gold was broken,
our life and we at wheel.
I've stared at empty shadows,
The thunderstorm alight.
brighter than the sunshine,
in memory stealing sight.
I've wished upon an empty star,
For murk to fill the world,
To clearer make the light I miss,
Hope my mental twirled.
I do not know the answers,
I never claimed I did,
I think they hide behind,
our broken one eyelid.
An eye that shone with day
Told a story no words can,
A story I forget too much,
A story to find again.
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
Tell me why it's all messed up,
Read me the morning dew.
Who's to say that one is right,
And another never so.
Who's to write our heart apart,
we shared a common foe.
There were dark days and
there were bright nights,
and nothing's sure in life,
except alone we find the fights.
Some lights are meant to fade,
Writing ages and eyes do glaze,
Some are there to last,
ticking on through murk and haze.
But what is dusk and what is dawn,
In our mind that knows no truth,
But one wrought in sunshine
in our fantasy of youth.
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
I read you a false story,
Of hopes away that flew.
In a world where all is false,
And truth is thrown about,
I wanted just to be someone
You could trust without a doubt.
So cry for me, you rainbow storms,
That once I knew and left.
Every loss my tragedy,
Every loss our theft.
Would happy be there to stay,
If a moment was forever?
Would right be right, wrong be wrong,
The hurt from inside sever?
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
Does it matter if I am not the one?
Then, who? Who? Who?
Sometimes there's no answer,
Sometimes the track's the same.
You just have to keep on driving,
And remember, she loved my name.
So must we keep on seeking,
Though purpose sometimes lack,
For rainbow storms and glory,
For thunderstorms come back.
---
PS. I should write poetry more... whether good ones or not, they can explain a fraction of what's going on inside my brain occasionally. Maybe I wouldn't need to make rants nobody gets well and just make me feel worse so often, if I did? Funny little thing, my mind...
Doesn't it just suck how complicated and twisted our minds can be?
PPS. I didn't give this poem a lot of thought, just closed off my rational part of my mind mostly and wrote it out fairly fast and posted before I could reconsider... so I know it's not perfect or anything.
I forced the mind to kneel,
nothing gold was broken,
our life and we at wheel.
I've stared at empty shadows,
The thunderstorm alight.
brighter than the sunshine,
in memory stealing sight.
I've wished upon an empty star,
For murk to fill the world,
To clearer make the light I miss,
Hope my mental twirled.
I do not know the answers,
I never claimed I did,
I think they hide behind,
our broken one eyelid.
An eye that shone with day
Told a story no words can,
A story I forget too much,
A story to find again.
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
Tell me why it's all messed up,
Read me the morning dew.
Who's to say that one is right,
And another never so.
Who's to write our heart apart,
we shared a common foe.
There were dark days and
there were bright nights,
and nothing's sure in life,
except alone we find the fights.
Some lights are meant to fade,
Writing ages and eyes do glaze,
Some are there to last,
ticking on through murk and haze.
But what is dusk and what is dawn,
In our mind that knows no truth,
But one wrought in sunshine
in our fantasy of youth.
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
I read you a false story,
Of hopes away that flew.
In a world where all is false,
And truth is thrown about,
I wanted just to be someone
You could trust without a doubt.
So cry for me, you rainbow storms,
That once I knew and left.
Every loss my tragedy,
Every loss our theft.
Would happy be there to stay,
If a moment was forever?
Would right be right, wrong be wrong,
The hurt from inside sever?
Tell me, were we writers?
Or reading old anew?
Does it matter if I am not the one?
Then, who? Who? Who?
Sometimes there's no answer,
Sometimes the track's the same.
You just have to keep on driving,
And remember, she loved my name.
So must we keep on seeking,
Though purpose sometimes lack,
For rainbow storms and glory,
For thunderstorms come back.
---
PS. I should write poetry more... whether good ones or not, they can explain a fraction of what's going on inside my brain occasionally. Maybe I wouldn't need to make rants nobody gets well and just make me feel worse so often, if I did? Funny little thing, my mind...
Doesn't it just suck how complicated and twisted our minds can be?
PPS. I didn't give this poem a lot of thought, just closed off my rational part of my mind mostly and wrote it out fairly fast and posted before I could reconsider... so I know it's not perfect or anything.