Lightning strikes and creates a thousand mediocre poems
The electricity plays from my rapidly moving wrists to my lips
My fingers tap out the strangest staccato
As my mind dances to the tune of Me.
I wring out the old cloth
The dust of old poems is wept out by its filthy folds
It fouls the water I lift to my lips
Yet deeply I drink of my own dusty essence
To better understand my fatal conditions.
A cracked corona visits my frame
The lay of light glances against the eyes
My body jerks against the rushing in my veins
Once again my poisons speed forth my ability
As the deepest of energies bursts to life within.
In the darkness there is a temple
Abandoned for the moment, it stands without inhabitants
Yet…
The old chambers are filled with sunlight again, for the briefest of moments….
And then, veils sweeping back, it is empty again.
Typing In The Temple
3 posts •
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Typing In The Temple
With your doubt, all is comfort
We are all as we appear
No more questions left unanswered
No more wonder, no more fear
Nothing is beauty, nothing's feeling
Blood where there once was a soul
So I ask you, prove yourself
Make me believe that you are whole
We are all as we appear
No more questions left unanswered
No more wonder, no more fear
Nothing is beauty, nothing's feeling
Blood where there once was a soul
So I ask you, prove yourself
Make me believe that you are whole
- Zarn Ishtare
- Posts: 1295
- Joined: Wed Feb 11, 2004 4:23 am
- Location: HELL HATH NO FURY, AT ALL.
Typing In The Temple
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lightning strikes and creates a thousand mediocre poems
The electricity plays from my rapidly moving wrists to my lips
My fingers tap out the strangest staccato [My fingers on the keyboard]
As my mind dances to the tune of Me.
I wring out the old cloth
The dust of old poems is wept out by its filthy folds
It fouls the water I lift to my lips
Yet deeply I drink of my own dusty essence
To better understand my fatal conditions. [I'd been re-reading old poems and feeling old things, thats about it.]
A cracked corona visits my frame
The lay of light glances against the eyes
My body jerks against the rushing in my veins
Once again my poisons speed forth my ability
As the deepest of energies bursts to life within. [I have a chemical imbalance which gets me really high. When combined with caffeine, I go...nuts.]
In the darkness there is a temple
Abandoned for the moment, it stands without inhabitants [Harder to explain. there was no one in the temple of self. Lights on but nobody home, you understand?]
Yet…
The old chambers are filled with sunlight again, for the briefest of moments….
And then, veils sweeping back, it is empty again. [those brief flashes of light, inspiration, love, and other good things too short by far.]
__________________
[This was one of those "Lets Look At The Self" types of things. I had this inspiration thing going (Equally hard to explain. It wasn't that "Real" inspiration, it was this mellow kind of unfelt thing I didn't really feel till later, nothing like Romance For Rae or my unnamed poem) and so I took a look at what I was feeling. Thats about it.]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lightning strikes and creates a thousand mediocre poems
The electricity plays from my rapidly moving wrists to my lips
My fingers tap out the strangest staccato [My fingers on the keyboard]
As my mind dances to the tune of Me.
I wring out the old cloth
The dust of old poems is wept out by its filthy folds
It fouls the water I lift to my lips
Yet deeply I drink of my own dusty essence
To better understand my fatal conditions. [I'd been re-reading old poems and feeling old things, thats about it.]
A cracked corona visits my frame
The lay of light glances against the eyes
My body jerks against the rushing in my veins
Once again my poisons speed forth my ability
As the deepest of energies bursts to life within. [I have a chemical imbalance which gets me really high. When combined with caffeine, I go...nuts.]
In the darkness there is a temple
Abandoned for the moment, it stands without inhabitants [Harder to explain. there was no one in the temple of self. Lights on but nobody home, you understand?]
Yet…
The old chambers are filled with sunlight again, for the briefest of moments….
And then, veils sweeping back, it is empty again. [those brief flashes of light, inspiration, love, and other good things too short by far.]
__________________
[This was one of those "Lets Look At The Self" types of things. I had this inspiration thing going (Equally hard to explain. It wasn't that "Real" inspiration, it was this mellow kind of unfelt thing I didn't really feel till later, nothing like Romance For Rae or my unnamed poem) and so I took a look at what I was feeling. Thats about it.]
With your doubt, all is comfort
We are all as we appear
No more questions left unanswered
No more wonder, no more fear
Nothing is beauty, nothing's feeling
Blood where there once was a soul
So I ask you, prove yourself
Make me believe that you are whole
We are all as we appear
No more questions left unanswered
No more wonder, no more fear
Nothing is beauty, nothing's feeling
Blood where there once was a soul
So I ask you, prove yourself
Make me believe that you are whole
- Zarn Ishtare
- Posts: 1295
- Joined: Wed Feb 11, 2004 4:23 am
- Location: HELL HATH NO FURY, AT ALL.
Typing In The Temple This sounds promising.
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Lightning strikes and creates a thousand mediocre poems I like that.
The electricity plays from my rapidly moving wrists to my lips
My fingers tap out the strangest staccato [My fingers on the keyboard]
As my mind dances to the tune of Me.
I wring out the old cloth
The dust of old poems is wept out by its filthy folds
It fouls the water I lift to my lips
Yet deeply I drink of my own dusty essence
To better understand my fatal conditions. [I'd been re-reading old poems and feeling old things, thats about it.] Good way to describe it.
A cracked corona visits my frame
The lay of light glances against the eyes
My body jerks against the rushing in my veins
Once again my poisons speed forth my ability
As the deepest of energies bursts to life within. [I have a chemical imbalance which gets me really high. When combined with caffeine, I go...nuts.] Explain more about this.
In the darkness there is a temple
Abandoned for the moment, it stands without inhabitants [Harder to explain. there was no one in the temple of self. Lights on but nobody home, you understand?]
Yet…
The old chambers are filled with sunlight again, for the briefest of moments….
And then, veils sweeping back, it is empty again. [those brief flashes of light, inspiration, love, and other good things too short by far.]
__________________
[This was one of those "Lets Look At The Self" types of things. I had this inspiration thing going (Equally hard to explain. It wasn't that "Real" inspiration, it was this mellow kind of unfelt thing I didn't really feel till later, nothing like Romance For Rae or my unnamed poem) and so I took a look at what I was feeling. Thats about it.] Cool. I like how you talk about the rooms, dust, darkness, and brief patches of light.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lightning strikes and creates a thousand mediocre poems I like that.
The electricity plays from my rapidly moving wrists to my lips
My fingers tap out the strangest staccato [My fingers on the keyboard]
As my mind dances to the tune of Me.
I wring out the old cloth
The dust of old poems is wept out by its filthy folds
It fouls the water I lift to my lips
Yet deeply I drink of my own dusty essence
To better understand my fatal conditions. [I'd been re-reading old poems and feeling old things, thats about it.] Good way to describe it.
A cracked corona visits my frame
The lay of light glances against the eyes
My body jerks against the rushing in my veins
Once again my poisons speed forth my ability
As the deepest of energies bursts to life within. [I have a chemical imbalance which gets me really high. When combined with caffeine, I go...nuts.] Explain more about this.
In the darkness there is a temple
Abandoned for the moment, it stands without inhabitants [Harder to explain. there was no one in the temple of self. Lights on but nobody home, you understand?]
Yet…
The old chambers are filled with sunlight again, for the briefest of moments….
And then, veils sweeping back, it is empty again. [those brief flashes of light, inspiration, love, and other good things too short by far.]
__________________
[This was one of those "Lets Look At The Self" types of things. I had this inspiration thing going (Equally hard to explain. It wasn't that "Real" inspiration, it was this mellow kind of unfelt thing I didn't really feel till later, nothing like Romance For Rae or my unnamed poem) and so I took a look at what I was feeling. Thats about it.] Cool. I like how you talk about the rooms, dust, darkness, and brief patches of light.
[SIZE="4"][color="DarkSlateBlue"]God has called me to mission work in Paraguay and Brazil. I may return to CAA someday. God bless all of you![/color][/SIZE]
[i]Two vast and trunk-less legs of stone stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away. On the pedestal these words are inscribed:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!â€
[i]Two vast and trunk-less legs of stone stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away. On the pedestal these words are inscribed:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!â€
-
Anna Mae - Posts: 1663
- Joined: Fri Aug 27, 2004 5:43 am
- Location: Brazil
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