DEFINITION
POETRY
POETRY II
GALLERY
INTERESTS
LINKS
The clouds of stupor cloud my judgement,
But still I consume more anguish filled liquid,
My brain works now on instinct alone,
And my bed beckons me like a magnet,
Throughout this day I�ve sat and stood to play many roles,
But none are as honest or stupid as this,
I�ve been an entertainer creating laughter as I go,
A prophet seeking future but never going far,
A politician, a cleric, a king upon his throne,
But in the end there is only me,
A lonely, poor, drunk man.
Falling slowly into apparent dreams,
Crying softly whilst withholding screams,
Remembering sympathetic mothering times,
Forgetting paternal sexual crimes,
Bruises black and blue from pain,
Subconsciously scraping against the grain,
Fighting violently urging death,
Whimpering from beaten out breath,
You silently curse this gift of life,
As you watch your father beat his wife,
You sit down stunned and wait for the day,
That finally you can break away,
In misery you resign yourself to fate,
As all around you begin to hate,
They seem to accuse with their bitter eyes,
As your father continues to speak his lies,
Racking guilt reaches your aching heart,
As your precious sanity begins to part,
With slashing motions you end the pain,
Your crimson blood a gushing rain,
Weakness erodes your soul in glee,
A final prayer a final plea,
To the lord above a bitter ruler,
In heaven or hell it's never crueller,
Than to a child in this world today,
Your existence unwanted you'll never pay,
They'll never tell you why you had to die,
They only watch your demise and sigh,
But in the end you'll learn the truth,
An eye for an eye a tooth for a tooth,
Heaven and hell are just fantasy fears,
Your death evokes not a single tear,
They'll watch you fall from their chosen track,
Finally released from your personal rack,
At last your freed from the nightmare game,
Returned to the earth the last remains.
Deepness flowing in dark despair,
Watching a memory on a broken stare,
Mothers weeping in this playground scene,
Children crying in a silent scream,
Explosive versions of this life today,
A true to life drama, a tragic play,
Actors all we seek lines and words,
But all will pass as life it blurs,
Tragedy succumbs as destiny rides,
And governments rule we will abide,
Only chances are left no proper rules,
And lords and ladies mix with fools,
Death and glory turn to bitter needs,
As a country crippled begins to bleed,
As the reaper stalks through lands to clear,
Insanity causes all men to fear.
In moods so rich we pick our ways,
Through memories that can haunt us,
And watch as children play with toys,
And mothers pleasures beckon,
Into the woods we dance and play,
Through glades and satyr glens,
Mist filled valleys where angels fly,
And centaurs cause much worry,
Green and lush the trees of old,
Watchful and ever protecting,
The gods of earlier times live free,
In beatific forested clearings,
Time stands still in mock relief,
As wanderers seek their solace,
But I stand free of all their needs,
As natures children perish.