Zmiana sposobu prezentacji
Oh, come here might Eagle,
to the beach at Normandy.
Come fly to Hades' music.
Come,
murder faithfully.
Oh, come here tiny kitten,
to Antietam's sepulchre.
Come dance on death's dominion.
Come,
cavort with carnivores.
Oh, come here little Cinderella,
to the Garden's of Persephone.
Come play in darkened Palestine.
Come,
shatter your naivete.
Oh, the twinge of helplessness
of pain tinged with relief.
Is nostalgia comfort?
Or just a comforting thief?
Where is the butterfly's solace from?
Well, the winged need no sleep.
Their joy and laughter overrule
the need for Slumber's Deep.
Silver sounds like singing bliss
and praises belted loud.
There is always a silver lining
if the Son is behind the cloud.
Even with metamorphosis of soul
don't pine for days gone by.
Would you rather be a caterpillar,
or a butterfly?
Fate bring nostalgia through paper,
while glancing through the sketches
of an old notebook ring,
for imagine the look of ambrosia
at the Finding of a forgotten Thing.
And the quirk of a smile that catches
the ring of the drones of Memory,
that fetches the string of those times.
The Crime of the past clings - forgiven,
and flies by the pace of the rhyme.
The pleasure, sublime on the stings
and etches the treachery,
cries Time, and - again
bringing new clarity,
- pure and unbearably-
of those Lost and Forgotten things.
What is this madness attraction?
This desire for the insane?
Longing for some naive unknowingness
Of wild Thoughts gone untamed.
A simple answer to the riddle,
is for motives, right and pure,
with no thought for the Blackness
the bearer must endure.
Hidden glances filled their lives,
and fights fulfilled with throwing knives,
the dance of conquer before their eyes.
They lie in wait to overtake,
and strike the final blow
of victory, who will it be?
In a darkened alley just below.
He pounces to go for the kill,
but something stopped his blade.
He stayed his hand, and helped her stand
and the world began to fade.
His whole life had been spent on her.
Trying to kill and murder, not assure
himself that she was the enemy,
and while he hesitated she
tackled him to the ground,
a dagger to his throat, but when
she looked in his eyes, she found
nothing vile anymore, she took away
her scratched up blade, threw it at the wall.
And wondered how he saw her now
then let her teardrops fall.
His embrace was complete and sound.
(...)
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Blah blah blah Blah
I really don't care
of what the world wants
my soul to bear
I've left it behind
on the cold window eave
and I'm not going back
no matter its pleas
Stars shine in indefinite silence
the current moves forever flowing
crickets chirp their chimes undying
lightning bugs are always glowing
The immortal wind trickles through the trees
whose trunks are centuries old
mothers pillage the snow for a parcel of food
babies huddle together fighting the cold
Women sit beside the fire
gossiping of fate
they wonder about their destiny
and love their life-long mate
Men sit together and laugh
and drink their entire life
yet it won't make them unclean
nor end their mortal strife
This is my home and has always been
a place where all is sane
no material desires
just pure love uncontained
In our place, as old as earth itself
unchanged by time and death
we'll live forever in harmony
until we draw our final breath
Can you see through the fog?
Think through the confusion?
Breathe under the water,
or rid your mind of its contusions?
Can you get up off your knees,
when you don't have any strength?
How can you manage to survive,
when your will fails you at length?
You feel like you're on autopilot,
floating from day to day,
but there is this nagging void,
that just won't go away.
It's eating you inside out.
Darkness clawing at your soul.
You keep it bottled up inside,
so your weakness doesn't show.
You're scared of what you're becoming,
surrounded by a cold stone wall.
But you'll hold your head up high,
and try so hard to walk tall.
If you're not sure if anyone,
is with you by your side,
do you face your problems alone,
(...)
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Tonight, in the sky's dark canvas,
is the moon, full of all our blood.
I believe the enemy has overran us,
and our fathers shot dead in the mud.
Chaos, confusion. What shall we do?
Run away from the fear they wield,
into the night without a clue,
that we'll be ambushed in the field.
Surrounded by imposters,
unarmed and under fright,
we are beaten and whipped by monsters,
throughout the cold and blood red night.
We're taken prisoner and shamed,
tortured and disgraced.
Flogged by an enemy untamed,
their anger burning, yet misplaced.
But human fury often makes,
the mind come all unwound.
And so they mad a big mistake:
They left us all unbound.
Up we jump to attack,
bare fisted but terror driven.
Looking up, the sky turns black,
(...)
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