Pretty Colours.
Something so ridiculous
It’s even slightly ludicrous
The words are dancing round our heads
Dizzy, pretty, witty colours.
That do not fade from whence they came.
Dimly hazed
Shining days
The rushing, gushing ghostly train.
Mediocrity is no sin
But pretty, witty, dizzy colours
That do not fade from within.
Are beaten down
To this grimly lit confession
Aggression of possessions
Regression to no concession
Trivial concepts of consumerism
No longer are valued
the words of wisdom…
Witty, dizzy, pretty colours
Not as precious as any other
Keep on burning in the sky
For those of us who still dream high.
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MMM joy, a new style. Anyone like it?
Reflection
Rejection.
Something like perfection.
Admiration for the sailors who navigate the starry night.
Provocation
Domination.
Mirrors subjugation.
Submission is the sweetest wine of purer things at heart.
Emissary
Necessary
Quite to hold contrary.
Darkest as the spitfire fairy's that hold the weakened mind.
Resolution
Revolution.
That holds no solution.
Bittersweet symphony of a blackened, dying kind.
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Here's something else I wrote in boredem, it has potential I think. Might play around with it someday when I have time to waste razz
Hear the cracking of the guns
as the sea's begin to tide.
Fear the smacking of the drums
and see rebellion hasn't died.
And so the head-less horsemen ride
from fiery brimstone gates.
Hapless hunters that do not shy
nor hinder from their fate.
Heaven comes a-knocking
on the wooden door.
Bright lights and strange delights
no sin to be a whore.
So as the walls are shaking,breaking.
Narrow minds are bound to hating.
Foolish men are ever-quaking
and never mind to what they're taking.
...
For the rhythm hasn't died.
Something which will soon demise.
Something that the ill despise.
When God forsakes his brother's side/
But the rhythm hasn't died,
Not yet...
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Something I wrote at school during bordem in class. Kinda nice I thinks.
Enjoy.
To the scrutiny of our mutiny.
For placid eagle,
Shape my wings.
Amber eyes are tirering.
Sick of our conspirering.
Pure heresy of their anarchy.
No lunatic a heritic.
No hypocrite or fanatic
is eager for retirering.
Lunacy, puracy.
Hypnotising politics.
Purple-jade conspiracy
will take the soldiers heart.
Rip on me.Hit on me.
Slip on me
Breake on me.
Take from me, Hate of me.
But at least it is a start.
Longevity, calamity
a race for bloody profanity
the disgrace of our humanity
crazy trend to claim the past.
Reality is bending to the lies that shape the world.
Hell is breathing down my neck, but my cries remain unheard.
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It's the wee hours of the morning, and I felt like updating.
WARNING: no caffiene ingested so it shall be cruddy.
*ahem*
Who wants to be a martyr?
A symbol for the daring and brave.
A taste for bloody rebellion.
And other ill things they crave.
Who wants to swing the first ax
Chop of an opposing head.
Whether it be man, woman or child.
All of soon to be dead.
Who wants to bury the first victim
In soil rich with bad taste.
Milky bones which crumble beneath
None of them daring to make haste.
Who wants to tell the first family.
That their son or daughter is lost.
Fighting for a tainted cause.
Not caring about the cost.
Who wants to follow a leader
Who's blind to his soldiers needs.
Taking us all straight down to hell.
And watching us all as we freeze.
(ending is kinda weak, but I like the theme)
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Something I wrote for a mate for valentines, you like?
Decadance is something I havn't tasted.
The pouring's of my heart is purely wasted.
Counting down the years of forgotten neglect.
Can't remember a time when I valued respect.
Maybe it was but 5 years ago.
First I time I saw you, dancing slow.
Your tried to hide your eyes, shy to the last.
Something I look back on and recognise the past.
Next were the months of stuttered "hello's"
Couldn't hide the rush you gave me below.
It was to be years till I would see your heart.
Then I would find there's nothing thats apart.
There has been whisperings of a trust-worthy male.
Something I was skeptic of, riddled with betrayel.
Yet now I have to say,and admitt that I was wrong.
Your support has been so steady like the rhythm of our song.
As my life turns another page of trials.
Looking to the horizen which stretches out in miles.
I have the strength to face what I have to do.
All of which of owe to my friendship with you.
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Now this is my poem, enjoy fools.
Something thumping in my chest.
it's so small, it can't express.
The bumping,grinding,sweaty feel.
Of something slightly less then real
And so my rhythm begins again
Something sacred I must defend.
From the biting,witless consumation.
Clawing at my destination.
Exhaustion, perversion,
and something much less worthless.
Provocation, Dominatation.
Yet it's sweeter to my silver tongue.
My worth is something priceless,
Outbesting word devices,
And so I take,
what that you break,
The rabble your left amoung.
And so my rhythm starts again,
The fountain flowing from my pen.
Figuratively speaking...for those so bleak.
My words are something which are not meek.
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One of this forums most talented poets, will no longer be able to grace this place. So here's one of his best (and last) pieces for your enjoyment.
Eye for and Eye - MacabreDivinity
Voraciously yet graciously and humble do I wait for thee
To take from me my bravery and justify the end.
Insanity, calamity, as thoughts are racing viciously,
Admittedly, I wish to be your only one again.
As vividly the butchery of love within my memory,
Is soon to be the tragedy and savagery I'll raise.
Now droop your lids and think of me, instinctively, vindictively,
As carefully, I dig beneath the layers of your grace.
Obsessively, incessantly, a surgeon with this weaponry,
My delicate obscenity has only just begun
Unpleasant be the destiny of harlots and the serpentine.
Hold still and drink of silver sheen, my lover soon undone.
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I write poems and random thoughts here
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