don't take this poem too seriously...
and...
enjoy!
and again: don't mind the buld


Soil surrounding

The gunshot sounding
pictures surrounding.

Fired at yourself, eh?
What is that?
My liberation, your doubts belong
where?
I am so confused
stop shouting!
Pictures everywhere
I saw the end, the end,
the heartbreaking end.

Bow to the sad sky
who the the phoenix
passed by.

Bow, you out-of-control-messed up...
child, bow to the will of the forsaken
minds,
corrupted red veins of
hatred run through this world,
death,
insecurity,
out,
of,
thought.
Televisions,
spewing out spiritual-trance-suspisions,
(mindless?)
slaves of the unchosen.

Unlimitided challenges
met our soil,
the soil who give life.
Play your mind your way
I
do not
care.

I say die, give back
what you took.

You choked,
you killed,
you fired at yourself, eh?



Poetry by Poe_t
Read 685 times
Written on 2005-11-07 at 18:20

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


John Ashleigh
Ouch. This poem, so powerful, seem to hurt and frail my heart and it gave me a short, cold breath that iced infront of me.

I could paint this with as much clarity as crystal. Brilliant.
2005-11-07