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Groove
| Open Poetry #39 |
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Groove |
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Kaoru
since 2003-06-07
Posts 3892where the wild flowers grow 
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Pale wind rushing through the strands, where time once existed as a myth, muscles caving and the degenerate eye wanders once more, rejecting its vision. There is the father, whispering to the mysts that he is innocent, though they know the truth. The skin is singed, he lies in wait and only has the strength to lie, mouthing the words as they begin suffocate. Oh tender fate, softly grinding the words within my bones... Sorrow measures itself in blood, Grief lives upon the weeping, Love knows so many boundries, and still the wind carries these along as if they had no weight or distinction. Caressing the veins of which your cold blood is pulsing, like our bond between the world and what we wish it could be... He lies... that's all he can do. Prey oh, pray.. that we may misplace these memories of hopeless matter. Our knees grooved by the god we made. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Meghan Armitage - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dark Stranger Member Patricius
since 2001-03-19
Posts 13631West Coast |
ms K, and some knees make so many gods and even the jealousy between them, kewl stuff |
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ecrivan Member Elite
since 2001-12-10
Posts 3923my own state |
like the metaphor on boundaries..good write  |
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