So, you've noticed I'm babbling aye? Alot of work lately... this really should be my time to be enjoying the company of my pillow, but I missed you people. I've almost reached the 200 level... I gotta get the page swarming!! Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell anyone! Lie! Say I update so often you can't keep up with me! Say I live the most amazing life you could ever imagine. ... What the hell am I doing? If you can't make up a lie to draw the attention of the masses (or at the very least your immediate social group) I don't know how the hell you got this far in life.
Ok... now the babbling is bothering me! I'm off. I'll be back soon. Yes, I always say that... I gotta keep you wanting more. I will be back though... with truckloads of stuff to talk about (lie)... check in every now and then. And comment damnit!
Waving in the Freezing Breeze
Gypsy Pete is green
And perspiring
While all the devil’s men scream
‘You are nothing more than
less than what you could have been –
And him… cursed by the River…
Can never be half of what you are.’
Their words become the better of them
And perhaps we’re better for it
‘Cause there is little worse than a wasted breath.
Isn’t that our reason for howling at the crowd
In fevered attempts to enlighten?
Enlighten?
Enshroud would be the better term
We weave our verse into blanket and noose
To comfort the listeners as we hang before them
A twisted vestige of what could have been
If now was then
And then was just a dreamland
Colored random shades of yellow
All this talk has me
So sleepy…
So very fucking sleepy…
Would you mind if I just
closed my eyes for the minutest moment.
The shortest second of rest is all I need
I will be back to pick up where I left off
And onward we will stride down the path we’ve begun
Until we find its end and finish it.
I give you my word!
My friend…
If a wordsmith’s word is worth nothing
What is the wordsmith worth?
And perspiring
While all the devil’s men scream
‘You are nothing more than
less than what you could have been –
And him… cursed by the River…
Can never be half of what you are.’
Their words become the better of them
And perhaps we’re better for it
‘Cause there is little worse than a wasted breath.
Isn’t that our reason for howling at the crowd
In fevered attempts to enlighten?
Enlighten?
Enshroud would be the better term
We weave our verse into blanket and noose
To comfort the listeners as we hang before them
A twisted vestige of what could have been
If now was then
And then was just a dreamland
Colored random shades of yellow
All this talk has me
So sleepy…
So very fucking sleepy…
Would you mind if I just
closed my eyes for the minutest moment.
The shortest second of rest is all I need
I will be back to pick up where I left off
And onward we will stride down the path we’ve begun
Until we find its end and finish it.
I give you my word!
My friend…
If a wordsmith’s word is worth nothing
What is the wordsmith worth?
2 comments:
i love this one this is really really nice.....someday i iwant to be just like you i hope my poems can be that great well goodbye!
Love the ending
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