HjusOticePlostE
03-28-2006, 02:20 AM
68
Sitting in 68,
A Soul banging on the keyboard,
In a hidden room
Behind a wall.
Screeches heard from the dark hall,
Footsteps effortlessly tapering off into silence;
He’s still not here.
With Silence I sit,
my only friend,
dying inside—alone.
Waiting for judgment,
Shall it be decided?
Again,
Every rose has his day;
But always comes to life—vines creep the light post—
In a windowless room;
see the dull gray sky,
wet with despair—hanging with doubt.
Fat woman,
Walking down the street,
Her fat bulbous *** swinging back and forth like a shipped storm…
Fluorescent God
suspended above;
artificial warmth.
Holding back night,
When the day is old,
and retires into the womb.
Oh, bloodied womb,
like sharper days,
And calloused nights;
I favor the dusk…
Oh 68!
You contain me,
Into this solitude;
Challenge Him,
Walking around outside,
glamorous television
You portray Him with a vindictive smile and a sharp glance—Fake.
Poor,
Getting Poorer.
Rich,
Getting richer
Cyclical instance.
Sam rolling in his grave.
my country tis’ of thee
Burning you down,
Trampling your brothers.
And dominating your sisters.
sweet land of liberty
Again, walking the streets
snapshots of men with clothes, to big, covered with yesterday’s news;
clean streaks line their face;
their mask…
of thee I sing;
of thee I sing;
of thee I sing…
Oh 68!
Contain me;
In this windowless room,
where the sun is the sun and the dead is the dead.
Challenge Him.
Just Challenge Him!
Forget it. 68
untitled
At the top of the list,
No weight
of solitude
just boundaries broken,
And the calloused dream of life,
Melted away by concentrated fluid;
along the road we travel.
Floating among the chit-chatter of deserts;
Manly woes revealed through skin deep abrasions;
the road we die on.
Of scattered thoughts;
—Spaciously scattering
. . the scatterers.
Believe to be sanctioned,
Godless wonders,
Youth and bravery;
the road we travel by.
Scheming—ending of life,
Spoken tongue awakes hidden,
Dissident grotesque and masked horror;
+
Own
eyes
ruptured.
Killer! Stalking on these greeted grounds,
Alone I ponder,
on said road.
Gasping for infallibility the shadows on the gravel stricken earth
encircle me...
The Marker
Upon the hill
only to find nothing's dreams scattered among the dying grass;
gray and wilting.
that hollow sun shines down waves of heat
burning my back
as I look at the stone
it reads:
"for all who cheristch, this binding hill,
find me----I'll follow"
what did it mean?
Of the empty skies and lifeless earth,
only answer to that question;
if their is an answer .
Gravel encircles the marker
protectional barrier?
savior for the rock?
circumstance ?
Protecting the truth,
Who was buried here?
I was...
Any comments would be awesome, thanks!
Sitting in 68,
A Soul banging on the keyboard,
In a hidden room
Behind a wall.
Screeches heard from the dark hall,
Footsteps effortlessly tapering off into silence;
He’s still not here.
With Silence I sit,
my only friend,
dying inside—alone.
Waiting for judgment,
Shall it be decided?
Again,
Every rose has his day;
But always comes to life—vines creep the light post—
In a windowless room;
see the dull gray sky,
wet with despair—hanging with doubt.
Fat woman,
Walking down the street,
Her fat bulbous *** swinging back and forth like a shipped storm…
Fluorescent God
suspended above;
artificial warmth.
Holding back night,
When the day is old,
and retires into the womb.
Oh, bloodied womb,
like sharper days,
And calloused nights;
I favor the dusk…
Oh 68!
You contain me,
Into this solitude;
Challenge Him,
Walking around outside,
glamorous television
You portray Him with a vindictive smile and a sharp glance—Fake.
Poor,
Getting Poorer.
Rich,
Getting richer
Cyclical instance.
Sam rolling in his grave.
my country tis’ of thee
Burning you down,
Trampling your brothers.
And dominating your sisters.
sweet land of liberty
Again, walking the streets
snapshots of men with clothes, to big, covered with yesterday’s news;
clean streaks line their face;
their mask…
of thee I sing;
of thee I sing;
of thee I sing…
Oh 68!
Contain me;
In this windowless room,
where the sun is the sun and the dead is the dead.
Challenge Him.
Just Challenge Him!
Forget it. 68
untitled
At the top of the list,
No weight
of solitude
just boundaries broken,
And the calloused dream of life,
Melted away by concentrated fluid;
along the road we travel.
Floating among the chit-chatter of deserts;
Manly woes revealed through skin deep abrasions;
the road we die on.
Of scattered thoughts;
—Spaciously scattering
. . the scatterers.
Believe to be sanctioned,
Godless wonders,
Youth and bravery;
the road we travel by.
Scheming—ending of life,
Spoken tongue awakes hidden,
Dissident grotesque and masked horror;
+
Own
eyes
ruptured.
Killer! Stalking on these greeted grounds,
Alone I ponder,
on said road.
Gasping for infallibility the shadows on the gravel stricken earth
encircle me...
The Marker
Upon the hill
only to find nothing's dreams scattered among the dying grass;
gray and wilting.
that hollow sun shines down waves of heat
burning my back
as I look at the stone
it reads:
"for all who cheristch, this binding hill,
find me----I'll follow"
what did it mean?
Of the empty skies and lifeless earth,
only answer to that question;
if their is an answer .
Gravel encircles the marker
protectional barrier?
savior for the rock?
circumstance ?
Protecting the truth,
Who was buried here?
I was...
Any comments would be awesome, thanks!