Black Sheep
08-10-2007, 11:41 AM
Perhaps when I conjunction words together and string them with beautiful literature of poetic contemplations and sit on my life's chair, assembling broken thoughts that I cannot repair. Beneath this life of mine is a greater of two evils-two paths, no good is left in my mind. Happiness has become nothing short of bad memories. Wrinkling skin that'll soon be dust, ashes blowing in the dim lit silver moons path, Achieving immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying. Death, is the only thing to me that's real.
Atrophy my cold compassion which carries silence, an argument carried through other means. The sky is the limit, but opportunities multiply the more i grasp them. And all I've got to claim for my own is an empire of dirt. My frail hands can't hold onto dreams any more. Limited by other means beyond gravity; One nature of science and engineering is a human imposition. Unnatural, The division of human is failure; reflecting my limited capacity to understand a whole.
In the end, as I lift from my life's chair wearing my crown of thorns, to live on an impending stairway to hell, it won't be the words of my enemies that I remember, standing alone, no. It'll be the silence of my friends. Their lack of support.
Beneath the flow of time, understanding I've yet to go through hell, I'll keep going. Stumbling over truth, ignorance blissfully picks my soul up, walk around-then carry on. A pessimistic mind that views difficulty in every opportunity, and an optimistic soul that witnesses the opportunity in every difficulty; Born Contradictory to the lessons I've come to learn and the realization of the beliefs at my hand. Comfortably numb seems to hurt.
Given a place to stand, perplexed no longer by the strength of time, the fear of my own life. The worries disappear-I will move the earth. Perhaps not on my own, but carry my words in a sense of history; It's become a race between education and catastrophe. In this world, there is no sweet surrender. I've yet to come across a pretty corpse.
Feeling the pleasant euphoria in life, I understand the peace in death, but the transition to dead is difficult. Spoken by words of ancients, decades before my forefathers-We're all lunatics in this world but those who can analyze their delusion are called philosopher: I've only come to explain my paranoia. And begun to accept my fear. Death, if I kissed your neck, would you slit my throat?
I'll gaze into your abyss, and it's gaze was staring back at me. The hole in it's chest where a heart had once been torn apart was a rapture of cold. Perhaps because we've come to understand this world in it's disguise; truth. Instead of an enigma, a harmless enigma made terrible at our keening attempts to interpret it as though it were an undying truth.
Discover beauty in everything. Revealing a niche to accomplish my task, my goals. It's not what I've become, there is no sweet surrender. But where I've begun, What I'll become; To leave my world better than what I've found it, whether a daze of sunlit lilies, an en-devouring poem, or a rescued soul. Never lacking appreciation in all inspiration; Whose life is willed to live as a benediction.
Though everything physical goes away in the end, and deep in the vowels; My Empire of Dirt, is a steady pulse of boiling blood where souls of lives un-lived will forever resonate along with the miracles of reality and wonders of every treasure; and the coils of love, a beautiful rose that's become an unrelenting force which echoes a mortal shiver down my spine. I won't kill them. The things you've given to me.
Gaze into the moons twilight which bathes silver trees with its light of gold; Lifting this sapphire haze that's been bestowed by our limits, a capacity is nothing but us losing sight of our goals. Lift an arm and reach towards the sky-the twinkling stars are your opportunities, juxtapose your soul in motion and build your own destiny.
"You are a possibility that has never occurred before and will never occur again. No one else has had or will ever have your unique combination of talents, experiences and dreams. So don't waste that uniqueness"
Atrophy my cold compassion which carries silence, an argument carried through other means. The sky is the limit, but opportunities multiply the more i grasp them. And all I've got to claim for my own is an empire of dirt. My frail hands can't hold onto dreams any more. Limited by other means beyond gravity; One nature of science and engineering is a human imposition. Unnatural, The division of human is failure; reflecting my limited capacity to understand a whole.
In the end, as I lift from my life's chair wearing my crown of thorns, to live on an impending stairway to hell, it won't be the words of my enemies that I remember, standing alone, no. It'll be the silence of my friends. Their lack of support.
Beneath the flow of time, understanding I've yet to go through hell, I'll keep going. Stumbling over truth, ignorance blissfully picks my soul up, walk around-then carry on. A pessimistic mind that views difficulty in every opportunity, and an optimistic soul that witnesses the opportunity in every difficulty; Born Contradictory to the lessons I've come to learn and the realization of the beliefs at my hand. Comfortably numb seems to hurt.
Given a place to stand, perplexed no longer by the strength of time, the fear of my own life. The worries disappear-I will move the earth. Perhaps not on my own, but carry my words in a sense of history; It's become a race between education and catastrophe. In this world, there is no sweet surrender. I've yet to come across a pretty corpse.
Feeling the pleasant euphoria in life, I understand the peace in death, but the transition to dead is difficult. Spoken by words of ancients, decades before my forefathers-We're all lunatics in this world but those who can analyze their delusion are called philosopher: I've only come to explain my paranoia. And begun to accept my fear. Death, if I kissed your neck, would you slit my throat?
I'll gaze into your abyss, and it's gaze was staring back at me. The hole in it's chest where a heart had once been torn apart was a rapture of cold. Perhaps because we've come to understand this world in it's disguise; truth. Instead of an enigma, a harmless enigma made terrible at our keening attempts to interpret it as though it were an undying truth.
Discover beauty in everything. Revealing a niche to accomplish my task, my goals. It's not what I've become, there is no sweet surrender. But where I've begun, What I'll become; To leave my world better than what I've found it, whether a daze of sunlit lilies, an en-devouring poem, or a rescued soul. Never lacking appreciation in all inspiration; Whose life is willed to live as a benediction.
Though everything physical goes away in the end, and deep in the vowels; My Empire of Dirt, is a steady pulse of boiling blood where souls of lives un-lived will forever resonate along with the miracles of reality and wonders of every treasure; and the coils of love, a beautiful rose that's become an unrelenting force which echoes a mortal shiver down my spine. I won't kill them. The things you've given to me.
Gaze into the moons twilight which bathes silver trees with its light of gold; Lifting this sapphire haze that's been bestowed by our limits, a capacity is nothing but us losing sight of our goals. Lift an arm and reach towards the sky-the twinkling stars are your opportunities, juxtapose your soul in motion and build your own destiny.
"You are a possibility that has never occurred before and will never occur again. No one else has had or will ever have your unique combination of talents, experiences and dreams. So don't waste that uniqueness"