My fear at confession

Fear.
Running,
.........Screaming,
....................Dieing.
I lunge at redemption,
But reach it too late,
I claw at hope,
But it escapes,
I grab at you,
But you parry me.
Running,
.........Screaming,
....................Praying,
I conquer the evil with in,
But too late,
I am hauled off,
By a honest confession,
Sentenced to death,
Running,
.........Screaming,
...................Fleeing,
I yell my cry of help,
But alas it falls of deaf ears,
And I sit here,
Running,
........Screaming,
...................Dieing.

Fisherman's Blues

I wish I was a fisherman
tumblin' on the seas
far away from dry land
and it's bitter memories
castin' out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
no ceiling bearin' down on me
save the starry sky above
with light in my head
with you in my arms...
i wish i was the brakeman
on a hurtlin fevered train
crashin head long into the heartland
like a cannon in the rain
with the feelin of the sleeper
sand the burnin of the coal
countin the towns flashin by
and a night that's full of sou
lwith light in my head
with you in my arms...

And I know I will be loosened
from the bonds that hold me fast
and the chains all around me
will fall away at last
and on that grand and fateful day
I will take thee in my hand
I will ride on a train
I will be the fisherman
With light in my head
You in my arms...

Light in my head
You in my arms...L
ight in my headYou...
With light in my head
You in my arms...

The Waterboys - Fisherman's Blues

I hope you fly high

Feel loves sweet sorrow,
As time has flown by,
We live for the morrow,
And like birds we aim for the sky.

Taking in memories portrait,
Distorted maybe,
But on it I will never forfeit,
So this ones for you baby.

I hold on to our time,
Like a actor holds onto a line,
Or a poet embraces a rhyme,
To you ghost I will hold onto for all time.

I feel my heart long,
And its you I see,
And though it maybe wrong,
I am glad that from me you’re free,

To live your life,
Far from the this world,
And all it’s strife,
I hope that you can say,
That you have soared.

The spark of inspiration

You write,
And it's a reflection of your souls mood.
In you takes flight,
It may be happy, lustful, angry or even rude.
You kindle it's spark,
And make it into a flame,
And then you hear it, "Oh hark!"
You can hear your, and it can hear you the same,
And in you it leaves it's mark.

And then all of a sudden the flame bursts!
And like a wild fire it spreads,
It burns and burns until it hurts,
And like a burning metal rode to you it bends.
Then through your chaos something is made,
And it's what fire hatches.
And the thing for it you must have it paid,
Paid for as to you it latches,
And creates in you something that cannot be tamed.

It's a dream,
Its strife,
A sun beam,
It's your life.

To be a poet?

I am not sure if I completely agree with this, nor am I saying I am one. It just kinda came out like this.

To be a poet?

To be a poet,
To exaggerate a rhyme,
To see love and hate and know it,
As all it is, a crime.
To know your darkest desire,
And in it to feed,
To be called a liar,
And with them to agree.
To hold loves hand,
And soak in its radiance,
While hearing hates old band,
And to mix the too, oh askance!

This is what you want?
This is what you crave?
To feel inspirations taunt,
And always be its slave.

Committed to fear,
To be terrified of him or her,
To live each day in each year,
And see your life go by in freakish blur.

To have only one foot in a door,
And see your hopes and dreams,
Shaken to their core,
And smash your structural beams.

This is our curse,
In each hearts shipment,
Is the reason, the source,
Is our fear of commitment.

Feel love race through your vains,
It heals you,
It revives you,
Like a mid summer rains.

What is it really?
No one can say.
It is life itself,
And times can kinda silly.

But it is always worth it.
To feel it.
To have it,
Even just for a bit.