WORDSMITH, THE

Eyes on parchment
Mind awash with visions
Of what could be...

Sifting through people and faces
Part blurred, part flattered in different places
Eyes on parchment
Mind awash with visions
Of what should be..

Quill descends, heartbeat ascends
A surgery of lyrics,
All else transcends...

Of things mundane,
Of pleasure and pain,
Of abstract musings,
Wordly masterpeices he paints

With imprint of soul
Is born a manuscript
Unspoken truths and more
He does there encrypt

In lyrical dance
In unbreakable trance
He revels.

Ponders he not
Where his canvas will wind
Eternal joy reigns inside of his mind
That it was written

Ponders he not
On an augment of rhyme
Of cacophonous critics
Or just perhaps a dash of lime
Time doesn't flow backwards
Neither shall his hand

Delve he doesn't
In earnest lexicon
For mere decor
Nor on any suggestion
But for want of the word
To be
It is but its fate

Thrives he not
On things technical
'Tis but for mere teachers
The not-so-gifted ones.

Quill ascends
Exaltation.
And nothing else matters....

Repenting Speech, Wishful Beseech

From an infant born to a wealthy duo
To a poor little consequence of someone's rape
To the progeny of a hunchback indebted soul
To an unfortunate, abandoned by one's own

A common splendid wide-eyed gaze
Spreads cheer and wonder to us all
Innocent laughter, shrill and contagious
Instantly metamorphoses us into the small

Through the ages, these young 'uns grow
Like snakeskin shedding, 'mongst us all
Developing new skins, time and time again
Discarding previous innocence

All the lessons they learn from us, we're told
Will guide them in the survival
Of the fittest or the sickest; remains untold
But what of the innocent gaze that's lost?
Of truthful sorrows and murky 'morrows
These God-sent must learn to go on?

Is man the father of child
Or is it the contrary?
Who's to learn and who's to teach?
Lest we all become a mutual leech
Feeding on others' blood for personal gain,
Achievements that ultimately stand inane,
While open wounds become the victim's bane...

Sacrilege of the infant mind
Unjustified, 'tis most unkind
After they're rendered apostate
The vilified mind, the vilified Earth
Won't be a matter of pride to claim;
Wont to be a matter of deepest shame

Adults alike, refuse to heed
The need to let go of ancient notions
So the young and 'stupid',unsurprisingly
Give violent vent to volcanic emotions

A fake democracy is the family
Where dictatorship is the norm
Where rebellion and revolts are crushed, unheard
Where asking for fair trial is labelled absurd

Freedom we want, freedom we'll have
Freedom we need, to spread our wings
To float along in raging storms
That to us, are our golden opportunities
But to them, just misguided beliefs

We'll make our own mistakes,
Well let ourselves fall
We'll learn our own lessons
Then out we'll crawl
At snail's pace
Or run a cheetah's race
To each his own,
A satisfied grin on a grown up face
To be able to call one's life one's own

The One-word Symphony

 

by Alcoholic Toddler on Friday, June 11, 2010 at 7:31pm

Alone.
Afraid.
Confused.
Betrayed.

Aberrant.
Abhorrent.
Repeat.
Retreat.

Failing.
Flailing.
Cheerful?
Tearful.

Tried.
Denied.
Cried.
Died.

Zealous
Inspired
Jealous
Tired

Deranged
Tormented
Anguished
Demented

Rip
Tear
Maul
Kill

Alone
Frayed
Guiltless
Soulless
Godless
Diminished.
Finished.