NANOWRIMO IS COMING!!!
NANOWRIMO IS COMING!!!
NANOWRIMO IS COMING!!!
NANOWRIMO IS COMING!!!
NANOWRIMO IS COMING!!!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Winter Rains
It is safe to assume you will hear as long as you stand to listen.
We have this platform, you and I, on which we share life.
The days are born, christen with rain and die in shades of red.
The bridegroom chasing his wife,
waxing needlessly eloquent poetry over a mere function of the sky.
The first of many gifts we take for granted.
We laugh together, you and I, in this place.
The skies are gray and forebode violence.
Their chill is matched on in the vapid violence within.
Attentions can be held only for a moment,
the moment before the fallen and grounded rise to meet the heavens.
Inhibitions fall short at the reflection and marvels of the inside.
Everything we take for granted is summed up into this neat package,
real only in the metaphysical and in our delusional pinnings.
We are real in each others eyes only as long as we can see.
When we pass beyond vision and earthly perceptions
please remember me,
for the good and not the bad.
Remember the falling rain intertwined with tears,
the heavens echoing your sentiments in a burning cold.
It has gone beyond a simple choice of no,
it is deciding where you will spend the rest of the all in all.
If this is all we have left,
this place in our rain,
then we have truly fallen from grace.
Angels with no wings,
except we do not know the heaven we missed.
Embracing stains that can never be erased
in exchange for a self made prison.
Hypocritical hyperbole I can only hope is true.
Cravings for grace,
for mercy
and to live
for the love.
Confused battles with no purpose,
except that they exist out here in our rain.
The seas churning in turmoil at the lies
we perfected into a reassuring smile.
Endless seas of thoughts covered in the ever falling rain.
Swirling mists and broken fires lay about in grand circles.
The record player continues to skip in its corner and it screeches,
almost with remorse over what has happened,
what is happening
and what is to come.
A future oh so much clearer,
because of loosing that inhibition.
I refuse to pretend just to make you happy.
Even if you hate it from now until the end,
it sill survive.
All of these things move beyond us and it is okay.
Even with all of these contrived trends
I find nothing worthy of mentioning.
I have nothing but this platform and you.
The emotions pour out easily when you start to realize,
start to realize the utter humanity of our enemy
and the reluctance to extinguish a life that is worthy of life.
I cannot pretend to know.
Things are as they ever will be and can be.
People return but somethings never change.
Even with no moral support, no food and no sleep it can be done.
Just a small walk around our platform
and let the truth speak beyond the floating mists,
a darkened shower,
beyond the trite names.
Let it fall, intermingled with tears.
Colds winds and water lightly dancing in the sky.
Reminders of life and we're still alive.
The only fear we have is together,
just you and I.
We have this platform, you and I, on which we share life.
The days are born, christen with rain and die in shades of red.
The bridegroom chasing his wife,
waxing needlessly eloquent poetry over a mere function of the sky.
The first of many gifts we take for granted.
We laugh together, you and I, in this place.
The skies are gray and forebode violence.
Their chill is matched on in the vapid violence within.
Attentions can be held only for a moment,
the moment before the fallen and grounded rise to meet the heavens.
Inhibitions fall short at the reflection and marvels of the inside.
Everything we take for granted is summed up into this neat package,
real only in the metaphysical and in our delusional pinnings.
We are real in each others eyes only as long as we can see.
When we pass beyond vision and earthly perceptions
please remember me,
for the good and not the bad.
Remember the falling rain intertwined with tears,
the heavens echoing your sentiments in a burning cold.
It has gone beyond a simple choice of no,
it is deciding where you will spend the rest of the all in all.
If this is all we have left,
this place in our rain,
then we have truly fallen from grace.
Angels with no wings,
except we do not know the heaven we missed.
Embracing stains that can never be erased
in exchange for a self made prison.
Hypocritical hyperbole I can only hope is true.
Cravings for grace,
for mercy
and to live
for the love.
Confused battles with no purpose,
except that they exist out here in our rain.
The seas churning in turmoil at the lies
we perfected into a reassuring smile.
Endless seas of thoughts covered in the ever falling rain.
Swirling mists and broken fires lay about in grand circles.
The record player continues to skip in its corner and it screeches,
almost with remorse over what has happened,
what is happening
and what is to come.
A future oh so much clearer,
because of loosing that inhibition.
I refuse to pretend just to make you happy.
Even if you hate it from now until the end,
it sill survive.
All of these things move beyond us and it is okay.
Even with all of these contrived trends
I find nothing worthy of mentioning.
I have nothing but this platform and you.
The emotions pour out easily when you start to realize,
start to realize the utter humanity of our enemy
and the reluctance to extinguish a life that is worthy of life.
I cannot pretend to know.
Things are as they ever will be and can be.
People return but somethings never change.
Even with no moral support, no food and no sleep it can be done.
Just a small walk around our platform
and let the truth speak beyond the floating mists,
a darkened shower,
beyond the trite names.
Let it fall, intermingled with tears.
Colds winds and water lightly dancing in the sky.
Reminders of life and we're still alive.
The only fear we have is together,
just you and I.
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