kooldude23
02-12-2007, 04:17 PM
Execution focuses the mind.
He was locked in his head,
With only a few things,
Temptation to think,
Execution focuses the mind.
Face set in stone,
Gargoyle like,
He can no longer escape,
His obsessions.
G.P’s red hair,
Had ruined all the time before,
His love for her scared him,
This worries him endlessly.
Words have dried out his heart,
Too many words, deceitful words,
What is the cost of creation?
Love, death and adultery?
These few things,
Sorted themselves endlessly but,
Never arrived at any order,
A kind of watershed in circumstances.
Internal/external sounds,
Stones in strain,
He weeps streams,
For his consciousness.
Being gazed upon,
All the time,
His angel returns,
Rushing sensation.
Such a problematic religion,
Martyrs and murder,
Repression and sexual tension,
Should this go any further?
Limitations,
Sees and doesn’t see,
At the same time,
Sophisticated model of the mind.
Chosen to accept,
Two mortal sins,
Forced to be ignored,
How many more shall follow?
It’s all for the greater good,
Or so my angelic angel tells me,
My visions are clearer now,
I know what must be done.
He was locked in his head,
With only a few things,
Temptation to think,
Execution focuses the mind.
SoRD
This is the first poem i think i have ever written, it's about the first four chapters in a book called "The Spire" by William Golding, he also write "Lord Of The Fly's". If you havent read the book you might no understand it...
CC welcomed but please remember, first poem ever and first draft. I dislike the last stanza so i will probably change it soon, i just always like poems that repeated the firt stanza at the end.
Thread closed by Agesilaus (Forum Moderator): Old thread bumped.
He was locked in his head,
With only a few things,
Temptation to think,
Execution focuses the mind.
Face set in stone,
Gargoyle like,
He can no longer escape,
His obsessions.
G.P’s red hair,
Had ruined all the time before,
His love for her scared him,
This worries him endlessly.
Words have dried out his heart,
Too many words, deceitful words,
What is the cost of creation?
Love, death and adultery?
These few things,
Sorted themselves endlessly but,
Never arrived at any order,
A kind of watershed in circumstances.
Internal/external sounds,
Stones in strain,
He weeps streams,
For his consciousness.
Being gazed upon,
All the time,
His angel returns,
Rushing sensation.
Such a problematic religion,
Martyrs and murder,
Repression and sexual tension,
Should this go any further?
Limitations,
Sees and doesn’t see,
At the same time,
Sophisticated model of the mind.
Chosen to accept,
Two mortal sins,
Forced to be ignored,
How many more shall follow?
It’s all for the greater good,
Or so my angelic angel tells me,
My visions are clearer now,
I know what must be done.
He was locked in his head,
With only a few things,
Temptation to think,
Execution focuses the mind.
SoRD
This is the first poem i think i have ever written, it's about the first four chapters in a book called "The Spire" by William Golding, he also write "Lord Of The Fly's". If you havent read the book you might no understand it...
CC welcomed but please remember, first poem ever and first draft. I dislike the last stanza so i will probably change it soon, i just always like poems that repeated the firt stanza at the end.
Thread closed by Agesilaus (Forum Moderator): Old thread bumped.