ShadowsCool
07-14-2011, 06:15 PM
What Is Man?
What is Man?
I have taken to the Isle of Man to find out;
Is he just flesh and bones
Peering out
At the empty blue?
I have roved these sands
Throughout the Isle of Man
Bare toed,
Stepping on shells,
Seeing my heart
Buried beneath the sand.
I have kneeled
Before the golden cross,
Felt my heart flutter
At the belief
That I found someone
Who understands my soul.
Or Am I just flesh and bones
Walking this island alone?
To roam...
Above the endless sands,
Longing to find me
At last.
The Raven In Our Minds
An Idea,
A thought.
An ever glimpsing picture of the raven
That flies through our minds,
Ever finding new methods to expose
The wilderness of our temperament
The future of man.
We glimpse,
We wonder
Where he'll fly next.
Terminal Bed
As I rage in silence
In this cold sterile room,
I lay on my terminal bed
Having said my daily curses.
Thinking I'm too young to die,
Yet here I am, not yet forty,
Diagnosed with a fancy word
I never heard of.
Thinking of free birds in the sky
Wishing I was one of them,
Flying over this crumbling world
Into the arms of nothing.
O' Rich Man
O' rich man high in your heaven!
Listen not to me for your wisdom is folly.
Spare me your hopes and your apathetic dreams
As tempting they may be to my want ears.
I cover my ears from your piddling pain
For you have nothing of me but disdain!
Your gold that glitters, glitters not what I found,
I see your condemnation laugh at you like a clown.
What is Man?
I have taken to the Isle of Man to find out;
Is he just flesh and bones
Peering out
At the empty blue?
I have roved these sands
Throughout the Isle of Man
Bare toed,
Stepping on shells,
Seeing my heart
Buried beneath the sand.
I have kneeled
Before the golden cross,
Felt my heart flutter
At the belief
That I found someone
Who understands my soul.
Or Am I just flesh and bones
Walking this island alone?
To roam...
Above the endless sands,
Longing to find me
At last.
The Raven In Our Minds
An Idea,
A thought.
An ever glimpsing picture of the raven
That flies through our minds,
Ever finding new methods to expose
The wilderness of our temperament
The future of man.
We glimpse,
We wonder
Where he'll fly next.
Terminal Bed
As I rage in silence
In this cold sterile room,
I lay on my terminal bed
Having said my daily curses.
Thinking I'm too young to die,
Yet here I am, not yet forty,
Diagnosed with a fancy word
I never heard of.
Thinking of free birds in the sky
Wishing I was one of them,
Flying over this crumbling world
Into the arms of nothing.
O' Rich Man
O' rich man high in your heaven!
Listen not to me for your wisdom is folly.
Spare me your hopes and your apathetic dreams
As tempting they may be to my want ears.
I cover my ears from your piddling pain
For you have nothing of me but disdain!
Your gold that glitters, glitters not what I found,
I see your condemnation laugh at you like a clown.