These vivid pictures of what I was meant to be
Like a light guiding me to what I couldn’t see
Now the words are so hard to find
To fill this void of literary description to rhyme
Many merry men have spent life
Waging war on mental tides
They chase a dream they cannot find
Believing their present is a lie
O their mothers and their fathers!
Try to see
Your years are only few and fleeting
And your sons and your daughters must what they ought to be
A young soul must find a way
Through a maverick and through the haze
Like a ripper, like a saint
To destroy or to create,
A human choice to make.
These birds will grow old, fly away,
This house will stay the same sitting in a frame,
Our loved ones will come closer each day,
As the sun sets sooner day by day.
I hope the light stays the same, the golden scarlet hue,
Just like the one I saw in an open view
It will take some time, but it will surely pass,
This view from the window will never last.
Who gives the morning sun
To light a million smiles?
Who writes the suites of passion
To turn joy from a peasant’s cry?
Who blames himself
When doubts deafen the soul,
And overcome sadness
To escape from what people mould?
Dawn, sweat and dusk,
All ways lead to one
That an end is must
For those under the same sun.
Thunder, lighting, tremors and rain
A silent losing battle inside my brain
No one seem to understand quite
The isolation and end that I desire
Contempt and grin behind their eyes
While I succumb to their laugh and whine
A secret memorabilia of an old friend
The Darkness in me never seems to end
Wish that I could run away from it all
find shelter under an angel’s breath
Question my courage and I will not refuse
to answer your crimes in hell’s due
What awaits there shouldn’t bother me now
Because I know good people end up how
No more Mr. Nice Guy to you
I have always found joy in solitude
I hare crimes, Lord!
I am a beggar of justice
And if I’d overdone my pleads
Believe me when I have over done my deeds.
Gentle commotion in my brain
Tearful extravaganza down the lane
Hearing things believed to be true
Finding naught left me mute
Cold showers and comfy lies
My company through the night
Wondering where I will end up was my thought
At first I seemed to be on course
Sore eyes, red and bloat,
Don’t mind when I shut the door
Imagine eventual calamity disengage
I stumble on place and panic and shame
Of all the things I wish not my friend
Gentle commotion never seems to end