Monday, January 24, 2011

Hour of the Quiet God

Gone was God again tonight
Deny all our soul with TV and day dreams
Lay our prideful heads down to sleep
But in the dawn's light
The decay of our desire's we see
And much sorrow it brings

What does dawn show you
Frost rims the grass with heaven
A solemn forgotten angel dying
In a meadow it becomes the dust

Formless were our prayers tonight
Instead we watched TV and day dreamed
Of better days for ourselves not society
Until slumber took our prideful heads to sleep
But in the dawn's breathless light
The decay of our desire's we see
And much sorrow it brings

What does dawn show us
Frost rims the grass with heaven
A forgotten wingless angel is dying
In a meadow of ash once bright green

The Hollow Gift

Here it is whispered aloud
Apologized for it's presents
Resist and deny I cannot
I stood on the shores of truth
And could not stand my ground

A waking rhythm of agony behind mind's doors
Conscious nightmare of unmeasurable depth
Are you afraid to be more than your daydreams

I whispered it in simple words
Evade the given gift of reality
Pursue the hidden path of dreams
Yearn for comfort not sacrifice
Regression daily in how you think

Spoken without regret
What prevents man from speaking
Alas for the fear of the presents treason
Pride keeps you from the shores of truth
Find pleasure in the constant daydreams
Which eventually define your whole life

Will you accept the gift
Attempt to stand on painful ground
Weakened knees can find salvation from within
Defend the consciousness as it begins to define
Don't be afraid watch the dreams all die
Attempt to rise without compromise

Saturday, January 22, 2011

A Lunacy Story

Stories of water walking grow old
Transcripts of a police statement describe
The madness of a man mindless on the street
Judges become the victims of thought crime
Faith's perspective of deduction is all but lost

Court transcript proves absolute clarity
The self inflicted scars upon his wrists
Spawn of a brave fit of lunacy
Sounds like story not to miss

Stories of the once dead raised grow cold
Transcripts of the corpse burnt when he walked away
Believe the evidence of the perspective alone
Deny all else as annoyingly illogical nonsense
Atheists become victims of their own hate
Betrayed by a hope they cannot admit

Court transcript proves lack of clarity
Ancient scars bleed ever fresh his wrists
Spawn of a brave name fit for a king
Sounds like story not to miss

Stories of the once dead raised grow cold
They hope for love but nothing of it can they say
It is not logical to science yet to it we yield
Transcripts of a police statement described
Thieves become the victims of the devil's needs
Faith and love are but dreams rampant in the crowds

An ancient court document verdict
Of a mad hatted prophet's life we took
Alienated by the perspective from then to today
Spawn of the undeniable choice we all have to make
A strange lair foresaw and accepted death with no gain
Perhaps an insane Pilgrim who babbled along his way
Or was he the shame we hate and cannot admit

In any case perspective belongs to your inner I

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Universe Alteration

I'm unqualified to speak
To something so beautiful
Empowered to move a universe
Young & old lives stir their dreams

Grey hair
Ain't no going back
Metaphoric stage presence
Lending voice to the message
Beautiful is the rhyme beyond me
Shut down the vocal chords

Sunshine designed smile
Unqualified but to amuse
Importance of a moment
Spare no will expense

White hair elder
Ain't no dying back
Prose stage presence
Unqualified for poetic justice
Last verse addressing my hearse

Merciful smile so unreal
Positive alteration of the universe
To some it means nothing
Others it could mean everything
Moments are valued different
Unto individuals who miss them
Half drunk I better slow down
Recognize the beauty
In unblemished truth
No make-up hidden
Cherish the smile
Of mouth & eyes