this poem is for me. if you enjoy it, and read it all, i appreciate it. key of b. i dont know what credentials are necessary for a piece to be your "best work" but i know that this poem has more of me in it than anything ive ever writ
And speak in a tongue as unknown as the stars
You can laugh away sorrows with the cries on the martyr
You can find a new face in the hollows of bars
You can climb any trench, you can swim any sky
You can ask yourself how, you can tell yourself why
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horseman has got all the last laughs tonight
I can sing, and I dance, on a stage, on my own
I can quietly role into my own frame
In the narrowest path I take long heavy stride
But the gait to the gate cannot wait on my fame
It's just wandering idle to the edge of your eye
When it falls up the mountainslopes slithering by
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horsemen has got all the last laughs tonight
In the poorest of hamlets in the richest of places
In the slanted proximity of runaway neighbors
There the kings dressed in rags rule unlimited spaces
And the queens in their drag tell soliloquy fables
Hey, don't for a second think prophesies lie
No, it isn't their fault that the pen ink is dry
But the end could end for a friend of a friend
And the horseman signs cold on the red x tonight
Yes your eyes could be weary from hearing these verses
And the ears might have lost all their navigation
Oh, the touch and the taste and the odorous gasses
Are all but immune to the soul's radiation
Because Jesus himself may give sight to the blind
But don't ever think that the blind man can't try
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horseman has got all the last laughs tonight
I could strum every string til my fingertips shrank
To the size of a dream that never took wing
But my heart and its family of purple aura
Would give me the strength to stay lively and sing
The cracks of the leaves may blow into your mind
But your anger and passion saps all of them dry
But my end is your friend, my good friend of a friend
And the horseman, he knows the inners of the night
There's a fact that is hidden within all the fields
And the plains and the armies of vegetable grass
The yellows stretch sternly from Chico to Rome
It's ok, either way, you can still attend mass
All the numbers and letters you trail behind
We're written by men who laid waste to the sky
And they called it the end of all other ends, friend
And the horseman, he called it the doorway to night
The time when the metaphors flow like a stream
Your eyeballs inflate without strain like balloons
Your knees can't stop shaking from growing like cream
And all of your being is being too soon
And you think you're it all, but it all is a lie
Without any ounce of a sadness, you cry
I would end with an end, my friend of a friend
But the horseman is nowhere in sight tonight
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 566 times
Written on 2008-09-02 at 08:42
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The Summerset Lullaby
You can cover my ears with the ears of anotherAnd speak in a tongue as unknown as the stars
You can laugh away sorrows with the cries on the martyr
You can find a new face in the hollows of bars
You can climb any trench, you can swim any sky
You can ask yourself how, you can tell yourself why
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horseman has got all the last laughs tonight
I can sing, and I dance, on a stage, on my own
I can quietly role into my own frame
In the narrowest path I take long heavy stride
But the gait to the gate cannot wait on my fame
It's just wandering idle to the edge of your eye
When it falls up the mountainslopes slithering by
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horsemen has got all the last laughs tonight
In the poorest of hamlets in the richest of places
In the slanted proximity of runaway neighbors
There the kings dressed in rags rule unlimited spaces
And the queens in their drag tell soliloquy fables
Hey, don't for a second think prophesies lie
No, it isn't their fault that the pen ink is dry
But the end could end for a friend of a friend
And the horseman signs cold on the red x tonight
Yes your eyes could be weary from hearing these verses
And the ears might have lost all their navigation
Oh, the touch and the taste and the odorous gasses
Are all but immune to the soul's radiation
Because Jesus himself may give sight to the blind
But don't ever think that the blind man can't try
But the end is an end, my friend of a friend
And the horseman has got all the last laughs tonight
I could strum every string til my fingertips shrank
To the size of a dream that never took wing
But my heart and its family of purple aura
Would give me the strength to stay lively and sing
The cracks of the leaves may blow into your mind
But your anger and passion saps all of them dry
But my end is your friend, my good friend of a friend
And the horseman, he knows the inners of the night
There's a fact that is hidden within all the fields
And the plains and the armies of vegetable grass
The yellows stretch sternly from Chico to Rome
It's ok, either way, you can still attend mass
All the numbers and letters you trail behind
We're written by men who laid waste to the sky
And they called it the end of all other ends, friend
And the horseman, he called it the doorway to night
The time when the metaphors flow like a stream
Your eyeballs inflate without strain like balloons
Your knees can't stop shaking from growing like cream
And all of your being is being too soon
And you think you're it all, but it all is a lie
Without any ounce of a sadness, you cry
I would end with an end, my friend of a friend
But the horseman is nowhere in sight tonight
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 566 times
Written on 2008-09-02 at 08:42
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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