Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Struggling Against The Storm

Struggling Against The Storm

We loved we laughed, and enjoyed our time together,
We were tossed in passion, barley breathing but whispering forever,

We loved and believed, and soared into the clouds,
Scared as hell, But for each other we held no doubts,

We loved and longed, and wondered what if,
And worried about wronging the other, and barely kept a drift.

We loved and we fought, all with a sudden confusion,
And in the end to you I brought, a depressing sort of resolution,

The wind blows and time passes, we loved and lost,
And I wondered what tragedy did I cross.

Things brake and others we make like a craft,
And now it’s only me to say, “I have loved and laughed,
I’ve been caught under the sun’s ray to be drowned by the storm,
And without you I have struggled to keep warm.”

We loved we laughed, and enjoyed our time together,
We were tossed in passion, barley breathing but whispering forever,

We loved and believed, and soared into the clouds,
Scared as hell, But for each other we held no doubts,

We loved and longed, and wondered what if,
And worried about wronging the other, and barely kept a drift.

We loved and we fought, all with a sudden confusion,
And in the end to you I brought, a depressing sort of resolution,

The wind blows and time passes, we loved and lost,
And I wonder what tragedy has come beofre me, what have I crossed.

Things brake and others we make like a craft,
And now it’s only me to say, “I have loved and laughed,
I’ve been caught under the sun’s ray to be drowned by the storm,
And without you I have struggled to keep warm.”

Holy War

Holy War

Fire undo to fire, for that is where the rage is kept,
And Rage is what soaks the bed sheets red of where the babe once slept.

Ice freeze to ice, and make our blood even colder.
Make our minds numb, so we refuse to listen to reason,
And in turn, turn the cold shoulder.

Bullet strike bullet in mid flight, and make the “righteous” want to fight,
But be quick and reload, and listen to them, of what the “Bomb” foretold.

Knife stab and slash at knife, for this is where their in cunning,
Ignore the cries for mercy, for there is no honor in running,

Darkness cover up darkness, so that the assassin of light might not be seen,
So no one will recognize his face and his kill will be quick and clean.

Now let time emphasize time, so that this poem may ring true,
Allowing us to kill OUR evil and good and so make us anew.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Riddle

Riddle

By Devon Coupland

We are all covered in armor,
And most of us are close to the ground,
We despise the cold, and prefer the warmer,
And very few of us tend to make a sound.

Two of us are named for drink,
One of us for a food at your supper,
Occasionally we appeal to those with kink,
And it’s rumored that we never blink.
Our nose is in our mouth, and with it an extra hinge,
Others of us kill with a double set of syringe.

Many of us send a shiver up your spine,
None of us are particularly kind,
Some of us are big others of us very small,
But our pattern of look is something familiar to us all.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Comrades

Comrades

The two of us set out in life together,
We swore friends forever,
We staggered through the road to man-hood leaning on one another,
Looking at the armies we beat, I look back and shudder,
“Did we really live through those epic battles that everyone must fight?
Did we really laugh like that through them and smile at their bite?”
We should have been scared as hell of what we saw,
But I was as secure as could be as long as you where with me,
Even when the out backside’s got raw.

I look back at those struggles in wonder.
How could we have won when all we did was blindly blunder?
I can’t help but think,
Where would have I been if you weren’t there in that prank,
To tell me to think about what might have happened,
Or me to get you into those battles that were so ramped,
With the lessons that we were to learn and the blood to be shed,
I know I was glad that you where there to share in the blood we bled.

I will always be here for you friend,
But I warn you I have bad habits that do tend,
To get the best of me,
But with you I’ll be as happy as anyone could possibly be.
So give me you friendship,And never will those memories of our battles will I let slip

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Service

You know, there are just somethings, that seem to stick with us. I don't know why certain things stick with me, but there's a poem by Robert Service that for what ever reason has stuck with me. It goes like this:
Unforgotten
I know a garden where the lilies gleam,
And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,
And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!
...............................
I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,
Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary -- then
He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.
..............................
And ah, it's strange; for, desolate and dim,
Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;
Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in the garret there with him.
I'm not sure why I want to share this, but I feel for some reason like I can relate to this poem on a very deep level. But not to any particular part of it, just it as a whole. Do you human being always need to realate to inanamite objects? You hear people say to a frien about a new car, "oh wow, SHE'S beautiful." Or they talk of there pets, as if they just had a very deep and enlightening conversation with the animals, not that I am saying that animals are not smart, but i highly doubt they can have a heart to heart two way conversation with there owners. Why do we need to feel close to such things?

Monday, February 06, 2006

Time

Time,
You can't feel it,
But you can sense it.
Time,
It has no face or body,
But it is always talking to us.
Time,
It has not a beginning nor an end,
No age,
Yet it is something we consider both friend and enemy.
It is neither spiritual no a trained physician,
Yet it can either deepen any wound or heal it.
Time has be around sense before we where here,
And will be here long after we are gone,
Yet, we are always short of it.
It can neither run, fly, nor swim,
But we are always racing it.
Time chooses no side,
Yet we often are fighting time.
We spend hours on end trying to kill time,
Yet it is neither alive or dead.
Time,
We need it,
We race it,
We hate it.
It hurts us,
It heals us,
And it beats us.


Time.