Sta.sh
What they do not see,
In us, is that we are not:
Deaf, Blind, Scared, Or Dead.
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Vietnam: Unfair Children dancing through the sea,Vietnam: Unfair by *Anti-Social-Poet
Wondering what could be,
With the light coming into sight,
Some speak among the night:
"Oh what is to become of me?"
Tears drown the newborn glee.
A blast incoming,
Will send a child into flight,
While these children dance through the sea.
Take a bow so it pleases he,
To feed that subtle greed.
Drink to the beggars might,
Dreaming to one day ignite,
The now stuttering grief,
For our children danced through the deadly beryl sea.
Love's purpose It strikes fear and lust,Love's purpose by *Anti-Social-Poet
Pain and trust.
With no need to speak,
It screams,
It yells,
It must,
Mutter unto our souls,
Our light,
Fill our holes,
And guide our might.
Everlasting songs,
Speak of what dies tonight.
For this word, such a sight,
Ails our fight,
For the freedom of all,
And the imprisonment of our call.
Now with a gliding fury,
We ask to part upon this flurry,
Of words and anger,
Trust and danger.
We must challenge life,
We must live tonight,
And guide ourselves throughout this flight.
Our wings cut through air,
As we dance upon the flare,
While "love" takes its toll,
And we embrace our feelings of woe,
Even in my dreams Dreaming about you,Even in my dreams by *Anti-Social-Poet
Drives my insides wild with glee.
I won't let you go.
Pilgrimage to her light I sink into a red demise,Pilgrimage to her light by *Anti-Social-Poet
With these words I will speak no lies.
I hope you find there is no surprise,
Within the bellows of my cries.
With a dying wish I open my Third Eye,
To seek the mistakes I made within my life.
To the end I will carry my knife,
For I am the only sacrifice.
Pain shall only suffice,
When I am encased in ice.
For the bitter cold won't be nice,
And death will grasp life, like a vice.
To the end I must go,
For life is but a show.
And with this knife I will know,
That the red water shall grow,
Into a distinct puddle of woe,
And a wretched army of low,
Insufferable crows.
Though I am to end it this disastro
Yo! Names Jordan. I am 16 years young and poetry is life.  I love it. I admire nearly all kinds of art. I love reading and writing, and personally, I am obsessed with psychology.  I am a proud Pan-sexual and anyone who knows me, well, knows. I am a proud supporter of the LGBTQ community. Anything else you wanna know just ask.Poetry is a living, a philosophy if you will. You must always see everything in every way, even if you do not agree with it. For poetry to be stern, yet kind, it must have feeling, life, and mind. Things come as they are seen, obviously. Life is but a burden, and poetry, is its guide. |
