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Dark Poetry #4
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A DARK NIGHTS THOUGHTS
| Dark Poetry #4 |
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A DARK NIGHTS THOUGHTS |
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Seeker72 Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387Oregon USA |
Another long one... sorry guys. A DARK NIGHT’S THOUGHTS . Beating drums Beating the soul The old man down the road Hit him till he moves no more Flying through the world as the curtain closes on mankind Gods on holiday the Angels are on leave The morning star rises in the blackened sky of the day Shining down on those that no longer care Homeless man Homeless life A world so homeless Lifeless corpse floating in the universe Forever spinning out of control The life of one man spins out of control with it His mind one day snaps taking 8 others with him Glories of a newborn babe A new hope for the losses of your own undoing A life less lived now to be injected into your future Molding them into what you wished you could have been. A slut in a town that knows you are one Growing old you find yourself alone No one wants to touch a soul so defiled Yet if any ever gave you the chance you could have shown them Shown them all just how perfect you could have been Wife Mother Party coordinator As the drug flows through your veins and your heart explodes into a rhythm of total chaos you know Lying in that dirt encrusted room you know Just how good you could have been you know You always knew How happy you could have made some lucky man out there If only they gave you the chance Life passes as you lay cold waiting to rot Alone in an uncaring world An uncaring world that breeds the love of true family values White picket fences 9 to 5 jobs that erodes your soul Smiling every day to those that feel the same pain as you do Yet none scream the obvious The pain of this monotone world we have created for ourselves echoes throughout our homes Yet there is no one strong enough to stand tall in this world of shortsighted fools to speak the obvious message The message In a bottle lost at sea Wave after wave laps upon the encrusted glass as the creatures beneath look at it with puzzled eyes A pointless existing creature that does little in a world so full of life Like a prostitute in a cheap hotel room A Jane Doe for the world to laugh at A bottle in the ocean, its message the savoir for all mankind Lying beside the woman Sharing the laughs and ridicule of the ignorant life around them Clutching the bottle to her rotting chest she found what she was looking for A smile through rotted teeth she knows more than they ever will Until it is their time to fall into the darkness Spots on the wall create the shape of Jesus’ Word gets out and the world descends Destroying the life of one for the miracle salvation of the many Make your checks payable to… It matters not when it all comes down to it Hell waits for all Hide within the walls of the church They shall be the first to fall You know that Read your Bible Not that it matters at the end of the day Ashes to ashes Flame to a spark Life to nothing Living in a perpetual cycle of spontaneous combustion we wait for the day our turn comes to be engulfed by the creator The creator of nothing The creator of everything The prostitute The homeless man Those that beat him Those that laughed The boy that found him and stole the money from his dead pockets He lived forever in guilt It shaped his future As it destroyed him Like playing with a dead rat after a summer storm For days thinking you had the black plague So little understanding of all and everything Irish pipes echo through my mind As a man screams in the distant darkness No one cares when a man screams They can take care of themselves I think in this world there are none that can truly take care of themselves Some time down the line we all need help in some form or another The pipes cry my passing before I even realize I have passed Gone now I look through empty sockets Am I lost? I feel no warm glow of Gods love engulfing me Neither do I feel the searing heat of Hell I just am Floating in a liquid black listening to those Irish pipes They play a sad tune One I think I know yet can never place Its then I come to realize This is life This is what we lost The tune we once knew Can never place it can you? Different for all I’m told Yet still exactly the same Figure it out It might just save your soul The day you’re found rotting in some unknown hotel room Clutching a bottle to your chest [This message has been edited by Seeker72 (01-19-2008 06:43 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2008 Christopher Duncan - All Rights Reserved | |||
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hardcorexflirt Junior Member
since 2007-12-22
Posts 12WI, USA |
wow thats long......it should be a book...if it was i would read it and ask for your autograph! this poem was so good....no doubt you have alot of talent!!! and thankyou for commenting my poems its greatly apriciated... |
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Seeker72 Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387Oregon USA |
Thanks hardcorexflirt, it is a bit long isn't it. Glad you liked it and made it to the end. [This message has been edited by Seeker72 (01-22-2008 12:09 AM).] |
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Mystress May Member
since 2007-10-25
Posts 296Taunton, MA |
Hey doll.... I know this is going to sound random but.... have you listened to the British Trip Hop artist called Dan le Sac Vs. Scroobius Pip ? Scroobius Pip has a style that I think you would appreciate. Even if you don't enjoy the style of music, listen to the words. The sound is just a backdrop for his words. A lot of your works have his feel to them.... as far as the feeling behind them is concerned. Your views on the world, your ideas on life.... Our scars are the foundation for what we have become |
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blue face Member
since 2007-06-03
Posts 92 |
Love it!!!!! ^_^ |
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Seeker72 Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387Oregon USA |
I haven't heard of him but I will check him out, as always MM I'm glad you liked it. Thank you also Blue, not too many people make it to the end of a lot of my poems. |
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Seeker72 Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387Oregon USA |
Sac Vs. Scroobius Pip are quality, thank you so much for passing them on to me. Gods letter to man I think is my favorite. |
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