Saturday, February 24, 2007
Ever After (not what you would expect)
ok.... before reading this you must think of it in an old english accent... thats soft, breathy in nature to really enjoy it as its meant.... and besides its fun! So here we go...
The absurdity that is one's head.... that is one's heart....
How fickle it must be....how blind to its breathtaking beauty....
...the longing.... the lonely.... pulled between two traps.... one not even so.... the other..... pitiful comfort.... tis a shameful array.....
... feelings tied to beiefs on the contrary.... life, seemingly incomprehensive in the worst of ways.. a pit of warmth of embrace..... those who accompany gawk... staring, rather most intently.... at its dreadful happiness... losing its uttermost function in the process of barely tolerable....the bliss of a miss....
...foolish skantering carcuses flitter about.... their middaystrols, a frivilous task most enjoyable....
... the masks suiting and satisfying to commenors.... discoveries of old mustent be seen or told.... an impertanance.... courtship between love and understanding.... a thing which could not hold any ground.....
why must this be...... silence in a place where life is.... questions..... the infamis IF that so lay before..... in its silence it mocks.... ridicules the permissive in its place.... the impulse flushed away.... yet again with another day...
The absurdity that is one's head.... that is one's heart....
How fickle it must be....how blind to its breathtaking beauty....
...the longing.... the lonely.... pulled between two traps.... one not even so.... the other..... pitiful comfort.... tis a shameful array.....
... feelings tied to beiefs on the contrary.... life, seemingly incomprehensive in the worst of ways.. a pit of warmth of embrace..... those who accompany gawk... staring, rather most intently.... at its dreadful happiness... losing its uttermost function in the process of barely tolerable....the bliss of a miss....
...foolish skantering carcuses flitter about.... their middaystrols, a frivilous task most enjoyable....
... the masks suiting and satisfying to commenors.... discoveries of old mustent be seen or told.... an impertanance.... courtship between love and understanding.... a thing which could not hold any ground.....
why must this be...... silence in a place where life is.... questions..... the infamis IF that so lay before..... in its silence it mocks.... ridicules the permissive in its place.... the impulse flushed away.... yet again with another day...
Labels: Poet
