Neon lights

sevensins

I'm getting sick of sitting around here waiting for fate,
what fools we were to think the desition was ours to make
I stood firm under pressure, hands covered the taste
the flavor of blood in the water thats laist
Its hard to find light when there are no windows in sight,
so whats better? to drink it away, or to fallow tonight?
They said everything works out if the child is posed,
With the kings shining wisdom of all who'd it sold
faceing the light too bright for young eyes,
only for the older ones who've already gone blind
I'm in need of a doctor to mend body and heart,
i feel more sorrow each day that my love is apart,
they give me no novacane just put me to sleep,
my eyes sealed under solitude, unable too weep
I break silence with singing a quiet melody,
One that i'd used to sing, when the days felt too free
I take shards of glass, cut holes in my face
Isolated drama queen with no liquor to taste
Sorrow poured i drank through your words,
Just numbers of days i have no time for
Take it to the begining, when god was our friend
beleifs for such wonder, and a love that cant end
I cry on the cue of the instruction, on a stage for this night,
A heart cut for intrution of the stage hands spotlight
And as i scream out indifference I can here someone say,
"i love you, stop running away"

FinsburyParkCarrots

This piece was sadly overlooked but I like it quite a lot.

Do you know this poem, sevensins?:

John Clare, "I Am"

I Am

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am, and live - like vapors tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest, that I loved the best,
Are strange - nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smiled or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling, and untroubled where I lie,
The grass below - above the vaulted sky.

sevensins

thanks you fins,
no i had not read that poem. but at leaste now theres on good poem on this thread

FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:

This piece was sadly overlooked but I like it quite a lot.

Do you know this poem, sevensins?:

John Clare, "I Am"

I Am

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am, and live - like vapors tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest, that I loved the best,
Are strange - nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smiled or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling, and untroubled where I lie,
The grass below - above the vaulted sky.