random poem of fate
28 A person without self-control
is like a city with broken-down walls.
Take your shoes off at the door … Let’s keep the house clean
Smilingly I watch outside as the children play bare-footed
Yes there’s a way to floor good intentions as now seen
In the children’s hearts as the adults seem so polluted
Peeing against the wind does not outweigh doing it in your pants
Grown-ups should realize that both are kind of nasty
One is done in ignorance and the other simply stands
On disregard of sugar and spice that maturity seems to be casting
My body, fatigued and scarred with life,Lay down on the silken mattress,Indulged in its leniency,I close my eyes,One,Two,Three... A blue sky is sheeted above my wimpy eyes,And I see the puffy white clouds float ever so gently,Warmth surges through my veins asthe ambient star atop sends me its regardsof a summer’s day.Disheveled and damp,I am immersed by the summer-born leaf grass.Little fingers tickle my senses as a zephyr breeze enlightens my ears to a sweet melody,Flown to from the city far ahead.A redolent scent drifts into my mind,And my body relaxes,Tense muscles soon wear down,As I am content. Walking through the overgrown meadow,Hidden amongst secrecy,Enriched with buttercups and calla lilies,Maple berries and violets,My absent-minded heart beats at a chirping pace,As wandering eyes gaze upon a spectacleto behold,And a mind sets on the future to come. Jaded eyes uncurl,To embrace the gruesome scene lingering atop,A hand stirs from rest,And clenches into a fist.My weary face shifts to motion,And redeems its righteous smile.
They call me Snow White
Don't remember what happened
But my nap was great
If I could drink my tears, I’d no longer be thirsty.
If they would quench the fire, I’d no longer be burning.
If they would wash away the worms, I’d no longer be hurting.
But here I lie, an eternity to weep.
My hope was when I die, I’d have an eternity to sleep.
No, I find myself wide awake, there’s no rest for the wicked,
Don’t hope for my sake, I’m already being afflicted.
Demons taunt me, an angel shakes his head,
From here I can see my loved ones, in a place I’d rather be instead.
They are enjoying forever glory, an unending happy story,
In this place I count my mistakes, an unending inventory.
If my regrets were a staircase, I’d crawl right out of this fiery place,
But how could I, in my wickedness, look at Perfection in the face?
It’s so obvious that it’s not just the evil I’ve done that’s sentenced me to my cell,
But the good deeds done with a haughty heart, that’s sent me here as well.
Because my goodness could never out weight my wicked thoughts,
And filthy rags don’t pay the cost.
I’ve got only one thing to ask you, one question on my mind,
To the rest of you out there, those hearing my painful rhyme,
If you now know my story, my sad lament,
And you realize that you are not perfect, for Heaven you are unfit,
If this place is real, a real of fire and judgment.
Then what the hell are you going to do about it?
My head is splitting
My heart is cracking
My chest is bursting
From the weight of it all
Each breath is an icy shock.
So I don't breathe.
Pain doesn't hurt when
Emotion is void.
Poems have lost meaning
People have lost feeling.
I never see the mountains, or the
Hills, or the fields, or the rivers,
Or the doe and her faun
Nuzzling in the clover patch.
I am far too focused on just putting
Of the other
As I trod
The beaten path.
In the silence of the night
she shall find lonely-
a lone flower in an island
dresses in monotone hues
black, grey, blue
but of all colors she is most blue
she dares not talk of the monsters
that keep her company ‘til dawn
they crawl underneath her sheets
like creepers in the nightfall
they linger in her cold limbs
long enough to feel the reaping
in her skin as she descends into
she is still.
In the silence of the night
she shall find peace-
she unclasped the hands of the devil
wringing her restless soul
her screams echo into prayers
desperate for God’s light to reach her
the wind blew west and
her body moves along like autumn leaves
swaying slowly, more steadily
the angels watch her from above
the shadows bury her in the dusk
the stars sing her lullabies
a splash of beauty
the promise of serenity
she is free.
In the silence of the night
She shall find the things she seeks-
In the summer, when days are longer and nights are shorter
In the fall, when the last dead autumn leaf crackled underfoot
In awry winter nights, when storms violently take over
In the spring when flowers blossom in bright pastel hues
She shall rise above the earth
bearing with her a name
carved in the mud of her years-long resistance.
Some people are destined for greatness
Some for dirt
Some people are lead to happiness
Some left to hurt
This is just the way things are
The way things are lead to be
Try to travel near and far
And you’ll see
But enough of that, enough of vague prelude
Let’s get to the story, while you’re still nice and subdued
This is an echo of a story we’ve all heard before
One of three fated brothers, that’s right, not four
One destined for thundering strength,
A king in his own right
One destined for deep honors,
And although second, can still put up a fight
And the last to be left behind,
Always set out, try as he might
Three brothers, destined for a single fate
Three brothers, who on their first day of highschool were late
The eldest of the three, with bright golden hair,
Was accepted by the jocks, the rulers of school
He quickly found his place, though to be fair
It was as it was meant to be, no one was a fool
The second brother, with his eyes of deep blue
Also quickly found his way through the school
He fit in with the Preps, and to them he stuck like glue
For even if they were second, they did still rule
Now the third brother, pale in complexion
Had a harder time fitting in with those around
He was not like his brothers, he had imperfections
And cause of those, he was solitude bound
And this is the fate of three brothers
Two who would spend their time in the sun while the third suffered
After all, try as you might,
You can’t fight destiny
You can’t hierarchy
I use up
most of my love
Spending it liketokens at theLocal arcade.
The engines hum,the wings thrum,the guttural startof take-off.
I never buy intothe $10 sandwiches,and only gingerly sipat my ginger ale.
It is in thosetight seats —Cramped and awkwardfor the long-limbed,
that I always fail to dozewithout waking witha neck kink orOtherwise. I’m up at 39,000 feet of
altitude, so I
inevitably end up
thinking of you. Running throughthese past paths,flying overregulated routes.
How was I, 80 years beforewhen I saw your face?How was she, 250 years prior,when she saw his? I sit in a chair thathas held countless stories,cupped fragile loves,cradled forgiveness. In the span of three hours,Aeons go by beforeI can again wear your scenton the nape of my neck. My breaths are exchangedwithin the dry,Pressurized air of the cabin. Before I debarkto greet your strangefamiliar face again,I question if I’m justchasing the fumes ofexhaust ghosts.
Do you remember how you said you loved me?
I spend my lovethinking of our love and how it wasbefore I had to spend it
Our generation doesn’t
Respect our past.
Is something we refuse.
Destruction of nature,
We are one.
However, at the end of the day
Many of us are different,
Some of you just aren't good enough.
I dont believe
we can change how we live,
its safe to say though
this wont change.
Especially since our lives revolve around a phone.
This is a joke
We think that
We are superior.