Poem Written Fast
#X.
Posts: 142
I am so tired, watch me while I play outside.
My magic soaks up the sun, contributes to the raging sea.
See pass the clouds, pastel colors brimming with joy.
It's all around us, and then hear the raindrops becomes tidal waves.
I look at the slickness of the sidewalk, the green moss growing
quickly on all sides. The cement bricks bury all underground.
There seems there is a waiting period for all grief, and all the short
sides of mourning. Why do we all quake, when the colors of life change. Change is not all bad. Bad, good, bad, good, this is true for all.
The light blue sinks in, and the cracks of time are filled to the brim.
The scars are filled with asphalt, the crash brings permanence to
the hurt, and brings physical change. This can only be seen, when
the right to risk is defined by what we don't hold in honor.
There will be a time, when you will sing with elation, and
purple waves of ecstasy will show you the trail.
One by one will you follow the other, and one by one will always be the number. Seems like the time found in the sinking sand, are the question
to Joseph Campbell's answers. Tell me that you don't believe the same
as the other? The colors of skin and the karma of the soul welcome you.
And you recognize the truth in all that can be. Borne today, borne tomorrow. Dead today, dead tomorrow. This is similar to the clouds
and their individual identities. Crystal clear, shiny, with a sparkle.
Quick heart beat's show the true beauty, for it is life. Tell me again why you look and search for what has already always been there.
My magic soaks up the sun, contributes to the raging sea.
See pass the clouds, pastel colors brimming with joy.
It's all around us, and then hear the raindrops becomes tidal waves.
I look at the slickness of the sidewalk, the green moss growing
quickly on all sides. The cement bricks bury all underground.
There seems there is a waiting period for all grief, and all the short
sides of mourning. Why do we all quake, when the colors of life change. Change is not all bad. Bad, good, bad, good, this is true for all.
The light blue sinks in, and the cracks of time are filled to the brim.
The scars are filled with asphalt, the crash brings permanence to
the hurt, and brings physical change. This can only be seen, when
the right to risk is defined by what we don't hold in honor.
There will be a time, when you will sing with elation, and
purple waves of ecstasy will show you the trail.
One by one will you follow the other, and one by one will always be the number. Seems like the time found in the sinking sand, are the question
to Joseph Campbell's answers. Tell me that you don't believe the same
as the other? The colors of skin and the karma of the soul welcome you.
And you recognize the truth in all that can be. Borne today, borne tomorrow. Dead today, dead tomorrow. This is similar to the clouds
and their individual identities. Crystal clear, shiny, with a sparkle.
Quick heart beat's show the true beauty, for it is life. Tell me again why you look and search for what has already always been there.
"The Poet is a madman lost in adventure."
-Paul Verlaine-
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion."
-Edgar Poe-
-Paul Verlaine-
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion."
-Edgar Poe-
0