Best Writings On The Wall Poems
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percivals Promise!?
lonely shadows fly like phantoms
sodium arc lights sickly yellow
the pallor of puss; an old mans bellow
the young rages for parents they never had them
the quiet cold of ebony rain
sepia toned photo seeking remembrance
young old women with too much experience
raspberry lip gloss she's homeless but vain
tenement skyline
lighthouse for the lost
children at sea
drowning in a ocean of humanity disdained
the writings on the wall
dope fiends in the hall
penitentiary collect calls
to grandma who accepts them all
mournfully I hear Marvin Gaye
"brother, brother, brother there are far too many of you dying"
lying in bed silently crying
"we got to find a better way here today"
They have told us the consequences of our actions,
We have been told about the trailing reactions,
We turned deaf ears,
Our insatiable desires have ruled us,
Our voracious longings have
chauffeured us to plunder her home,
We take more than she can give,
We take and leave little,
We rely on the law of replenishment,
Inadvertently bringing to bear our punishment,
We decimate her home,
Leaving her frail and bare,
She cries out for help,
She tells us to read the writings on the wall,
She tells us to ponder on the meaning of the words,
She tells us to consider the impending troubles,
That gloom will bring,
We say we don’t mind taking the fall,
For there'll be a season of rejuvenation,
Her hands will bear us before we stumble,
Oblivious to the fact that we have weakened her hands,
We stand at the edge of the cliff.
February 14, 2023.
I’ve asked myself this question
Now for thirty years
If the writings on the wall
Why isn’t it more clear
How’s a man supposed to go on
Always asking why
What’s meant to be always seems
To somehow pass him by
Cause a heart knows
Where it’s soul
Was always meant to be
And this heart knows
Just where it’s
Supposed to be
Every breath we breathe apart
Is one less that we’ll share
Every feeling that goes unsaid
Leads to pain and despair
We keep playing hide and seek
From the fantasy
That’s bound our souls from the very start
This wanting you is easy it’s the distance
That’s tearing me apart
Cause a heart knows
Where it’s soul
Was always meant to be
And this heart knows
Just where it’s
Supposed to be
Yes this heart knows just where it’s
Supposed to be...
The writings on my wall
Will yield to your downfall
The physical writings on my wall
You removed without my permission
The writings on my wall
Made you mad because you know
I had way more than you had
The writings on the way
Were suspended in the air
The writings on the wall
Showed yourself and the world
That you were unjust and unfair
The writings on my wall
Proved that I actually belonged there
And you did not.
The writings on my wall
Showed that I gave my all
The writings on my wall
Is pure predicition and pure prophesy
That this is end for you
And the just the beginning for me
Yes indeed dude you are crude and rude
And have an awful attiude
The writings on my wall
Is pure truth and that you
Were afraid to give credit
Where credit is due.
The writings on my wall
Marks the fall of the beast
And that boisterous beast
Is no one but you.
Writings on my wall
Fall
Fall
Fall from grace
Because before all mankind
You are the ultimate disgrace.
Writings on my wall
You read them
And you recieve nothing but
Hell from them from this day forward
Writings on my wall
Is the goal that you should look toward.
The writings on my wall
Will yield this product from
You which is fall beast fall.
8-10-11
cpyright 2011-All rights reserved.
.
Sketches of coal, burning pitch black
enigmas emanate from each mark;
Foll’wing trails on, getting back on track,
laid and torn ‘part, lone in the dark.
Graffiti of different crime,
something that you cannot define.
Each occurrence does not, at all, rhyme
like the foul curse which to you binds,
another day, another night,
all endless to a silent whisper
and a muted scream taking a bite
little by little, it's getting closer.
In the last hour, desperation,
do you dare speak of the impossible,
pouring out what’s based on emotion
within the writings on the wall?
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percival's Promise!?
There's no where left to run
and no where left to hide
The enemy is at he door
And the walls are closeing in
I'm trapped and terrified
I gasp and heath I'm suiffocating
and cannot breath
The writings on the wall
I'm naked and feeling so small
I'm at a loss
as what to do haven't a clue no more
I may have won many battles
But I've yet
to win the war.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Jan.
They're never with the perfume, but where the winds need change.
They're the first ones past the body that lays face down in the drains.
The words they seek come to them from the tears that fall for naught.
They don't need a crystal ball for their pictures always bought
in the teeming slums and cities, where money turns it's face
if the misery comes too close, then money finds another place.
If the crying gets too loud then the deaf will rule them all.
The only time we hear their message if it's written on the wall.
The prophets they are poor, that's why they see it all.
That's why we read it all in their writings on the wall.
Behind the fortress lives the power, controlling what life should expect.
Elected by the mercenary gun that demands complete respect.
Opponents stand up to be counted in sights of the rifle bore.
If you speak the message, then you'll be hunted for.
The prophet he knows better than to stand there in the forward.
He believes he can do better with the pen than with the sword.
So when there's blood stained victims, comes the cameras for T.V.'s.
Sometimes he'll read his message on the television screens.
Freedoms always been the dream of every man.
Sometimes his only freedom is the words he's written down.
The prophets they are poor, that's why they see it all.
That's why we read it all in their writings on the wall.
The prophets they are poor, that's why they see it all.
That's why we read it all in their writings on the wall.
I hate you for making me fall
And then leaving me to break.
I hate you because I couldn't see
The writings on the wall,
You were destined to leave.
I hate you for having that smile,
I hate you for being that guy
That makes me feel so alive
Yet hangs me out to dry.
I hate how you used to look at me
With your incredible eyes.
I hate... I hate myself...
I hate myself for falling,
Now I'm still breaking.
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percival's Promise!?
In the land where pyramids rise
An ancient language grew
Pictures were words in disguise
No letters for a clue
These picture and symbols were known as hieroglyphs
They were written on the walls
And it took quite a while
To decode these ancient scrawls
When hieroglyphs meet holograms
It's an illusion you will see
They will seem to float in the air
And it's an image in 3D
Holograms can be computer generated
To show any scene you please
Even scenes that don't exist
Can be created with these
----
4/22/16
Oh! Do see and behold
Of mother and womb
The writings on the wall
Crouching about the world so high
Their presence you can't deny
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Is Your faith draining now?
As doubt begins to wain
The writings on the wall
Lovingly, you carass his hand
And usher him into silence
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Many hands, worthless maids
Greater casualties of war
The writings on the wall
Life begins to fade, oh dear child of God
your eyes have lost their light
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
my hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Angst of shallow ,lonely breathes
Tears that scar my hide
The writings on the wall
Candle-slacken voice, light has faded
My hallelujah,
hallelujah,
my hallelujah,
Hallelujah
The writings on the wall
Poverty of war, cost was my one inheritance
Searing, blisters of pain
Hallelujah
Emptied-out in a crowd
Chanters of my dispair
My hallelujah,
my hallelujah,
oh hallelujah,
my hallelujah
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
2016/04/26:
Song: Hallelujah
Picture: #1
Cliche: The writings on the wall
Words were not enough to explain the ancient stories that came before,
Beyond the slightest imagination of what took place during times of mixed truths,
Written by those who were lucky to read and write.
Decided before time seemed to matter,
belonged a vague cave illustration about right and wrong.
Lost in-between translations
from Egyptians to jews,
paintings within the cave only there to amuse.
In hidden language between the lines that rise the whole truth.
The pyramids built on the labor of slaves,
proves hard work and sacrifice shall forever remain.
Writings on the wall from tombs to public bathrooms,
proves most opinions expressed is nonsense that's not true
At this omega of ill-fetted volitions
where the concrete-embeded poster reads "EXIT"
you watch with amusement the logical end
of ideological perversion
bemused by the grunts of kings vommitted by history
a history of misery
In this, my date with fate
as an inspired spectator i ignore the values a society disguise itself in
and read the writings on the wall
about disjointed limps and fractured souls
about abused women and misused slogans
about useless ballots and useful bullets
about persecuted students and deffered freedom
about the death of peace
and as such our long awaited kiss
on the lips of the King's corpse.
By the concrete poster
the wretched stands awestruck
waving their broken limps,
thus penning the last line in this history of what never happened.
the writing is on the wall
"mene mene tekela upasini"
umambo hwako hwapera