07-11-2013, 03:41 PM
Hey fishies...sit benedictus nomen eijus in saecula!
I am not so sure that this is the right forum for this, but I suppose it is cultural and subtly Catholic, so I will give it a go.
I wonder if any one interested in poetry (or history for that matter) might like to read this and give me some honest feedback!
Many thanks
The land is basking in the aftermath of all thats past,
and yet its scorched kings leave their shadows still upon the path,
i watched the sun go down on dreams of a utopian evermore,
which in the smoke arose, from hidden suburbs, dark-robed doors,
i watched them fall like rocks roll down the barren mountain breeze:
death to insanity, and all her suitors' make-believe.
They filled the valley with delight and hollow alibis,
and hid remorse beneath the river and the flashing lights.
I saw their Tiamat dressed up, adored, and lionized,
but nothing soothed the pain that ruled behind her made-up eyes.
I saw mendacity cry out to me, I turned away,
as all the kings of plastic paradise fell on their blades.
I saw a thousand empires smashed, as sea-shells made of glass,
the greatest of them cut from earth like nameless blades of grass,
and when the angels came and separated sand from stone,
i wept at how the brood of beauty ever called it home,
for they as wasted children in the school-yard played,
Until the rains came and their phantom kings were swept away.
I heard a lonesome voice from deep within the chasm ask,
when wisps of smoke escaped like trails of ashes from their cask,
were they not better when they sheltered 'neath the wings of dark,
than naked refugees between Atlantis and the Ark?
But as in winter subtle sheaths of ice encase the path,
the lonesome eye sees now the night not yet the aftermath.
Thank you, must go, next door dog is fight pigeon again!
I am not so sure that this is the right forum for this, but I suppose it is cultural and subtly Catholic, so I will give it a go.
I wonder if any one interested in poetry (or history for that matter) might like to read this and give me some honest feedback!
Many thanks
The land is basking in the aftermath of all thats past,
and yet its scorched kings leave their shadows still upon the path,
i watched the sun go down on dreams of a utopian evermore,
which in the smoke arose, from hidden suburbs, dark-robed doors,
i watched them fall like rocks roll down the barren mountain breeze:
death to insanity, and all her suitors' make-believe.
They filled the valley with delight and hollow alibis,
and hid remorse beneath the river and the flashing lights.
I saw their Tiamat dressed up, adored, and lionized,
but nothing soothed the pain that ruled behind her made-up eyes.
I saw mendacity cry out to me, I turned away,
as all the kings of plastic paradise fell on their blades.
I saw a thousand empires smashed, as sea-shells made of glass,
the greatest of them cut from earth like nameless blades of grass,
and when the angels came and separated sand from stone,
i wept at how the brood of beauty ever called it home,
for they as wasted children in the school-yard played,
Until the rains came and their phantom kings were swept away.
I heard a lonesome voice from deep within the chasm ask,
when wisps of smoke escaped like trails of ashes from their cask,
were they not better when they sheltered 'neath the wings of dark,
than naked refugees between Atlantis and the Ark?
But as in winter subtle sheaths of ice encase the path,
the lonesome eye sees now the night not yet the aftermath.
Thank you, must go, next door dog is fight pigeon again!