The stream (all workshops)
Swan
To lift on high
my carriage of head,
white coat of down
sometimes shed.
Can you know me
this time, this dawn,
know that I’m,
a well swam Swan.
speak not the name
for the dead hear
and stir gentle
in the wake
but raise the oars
soft on hallowed
lake
and gentle
for the shore
make
Here among the magically misled
it would be easy to give in
board the train
pray to the sky for forgiveness
but it's just like me to wonder
how could any man find honor
in the seduction or rape of virgins
The standard answer is
"his ways are not ours my son"
well, they certainly aren't mine.
I won't be raping your daughter
or killing your brother
Compass
Lost and confused
Emotions have run amok
Can't find North
I've reached deadlock
Sunk and perplexed
Feelings are blocked
Can't find East
I've reached gridlock
(chorus)
My compass of morality
Keeps turning and spinning
Offering me
No direction or clarity
(chorus)
My compass of morality
Keeps spinning and turning
Offering me
Nothing but insanity
An evening mist brings forth
Sadness within my bones.
The light scars the being I
am. Light nor darkness
bringeth me a dove.
The peace of a dove will
never quiet my home of pain.
I live in the heart of the mist.
I see nothing. I hear nothing I
speak nothing.
The Cloud upon the ground
visits me with the utmost of
ambush. I flee to no gain. I sit
deep inside of the mist.
It brings me much sorrow!
I would like to say to everyone on Neopoet are great writers. I read all I can and you ALL
have great talents. I know I haven't commented on everyone and I am sorry for that. I will try to comment the best I can. Please forgive me for my delinquency. I appreciate everyone on Neopoet. Thank you for helping me to be a better poet. Read you ALL later.
Pixee
I sit upon my throne of corpses,
my crown made of splintered bone.
Dismembered bodies bow at my feet,
as I feast on the flesh of the living.
My castle overlooks the potters ground,
as I walk in gardens of stone.
My touch like winter, my skin, rotted.
My army-
maggots and worms.
My queen is disease,
her heart beats in my bony hand.
All are welcome to my forsaken land.
After your final breath, you shall see,
my kingdom is eternal,
my kingdom is death.
Beyond instances of younger life,
before the aches of tired bones
and aging flesh,
before raising growing children
conspired to trick us
into thinking we are old
we came together
where breeze-kissed pines
march up steep slopes of golden sand
from sunlit inland sea,
and in the hollow of the dunes
slipped from our clothes
to stop relentless time,
enjoying each other's pleasure
and release.
`
There are no strings -
feel free to check it out,
ignore the mechanism
that moves my jaw about.
Watch me mouth words,
listen with an open ear,
this dummy has a voice
loud enough for all to hear.
There are no strings -
except the chains that bind
release those stoppers
to free that stubborn mind.
`
I went on a journey
I went on a journey
I sought mana of feeling
empowerment for those
who would share my journey
I prayed for mana of feeling,
empowerment of feeling,
for those who would share my journey
I prayed to the spirits of the lowerworld
for empowerment
with love for you
who share my journey
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