kings like when their subjects don’t want change, but gods erm ~ just change the subject
By
David Kavanagh
Cascading through my mind
deluge of dreams
floods of fantasy
rivers of reverie
torrents of thoughts
vapours of visions
waterfalls of words
In folios of verse
I Digress
I'm striped inside
from the ambiance of your love
out of the dark conclaves I digress
shadows merely block the experience
we seek to honor the dead
faces filled with lead
the plausible quest to a happy encounter
instead we foster feelings of hidden ambiance
does love really exist or are we here all alone
love is the truest essence of my mere existence
Perhaps this is the land where Nero tread
still we dig much deeper then ever before
a given chance at which to explore
what hurts you the most down deep inside
four walls that block my faced exterior
the mystery lies beneath the sod I tread
a Peyton place with the walking dead
To and fro her feelings go
Leading mine astray
Imagine her surprise when I
Should have something to say!
Love is patient, love is kind
It seems that I might burst
Biting through my tongue, I
Swallow blood to quench my thirst
Restraint my swiftly dying friend
Held dearest in my heart
Your wisdom never lacking
Motivation on your part
As far as dying wishes go
I’ll honor your request
And bury you between the
Bone and sinew in my chest
I hope and pray, I never die like this.
For this would not have any bliss.
Running to a room with pain in chest,
Maybe from something I did digest.
Hoping to get rid of something thwarted,
Dying from heart attack as it departed.
Sitting upon a white porcelain throne,
This is not the way I want to be known.
Though hopefully my actions will pass,
Maybe oh maybe, it’s only a little gas.
If I were a king, then I wouldn’t mind.
Upon a golden throne they would find.
That I had died in gracious peace at last.
Though, my before mentioned place aghast,
Since I am no king, to pass away in jest,
There’re worse ways to die, then doing my best.
Written for
Sponsor Natalie The Rogue Rhymer
Contest Name Die A 'Fun' Death Contest
switched into the voiceless, helpless abyss
Is there no one to talk to out here?
can anyone here my frustration at this?
I know I am "very important to us" but
can we talk...like "h.e.l.l.o."
"how are things going today?...want come coffee?"
"how's that shoulder feeling these days?"
"so tell me, what can I do for you?"
beep..."to review your message
press 1,
if your satisfied with your message
press 2,
if you'd like to go back to childhood
and rethink the whole thing whilst
catching fireflies on some June-night field,
well, just hang up, go to the pantry and find
an old mayonnaise jar and a Bic pen and
punch holes in the top and tear some of that
sweet grass with your loamy fingers and
stuff it in, then run the field casting
palms to the sky in supplication,
gazing at all those stars out above
amazed at what a great thing it is...
to be here...
but I digress"...
"if you'd like to re-record your message
press 3..."
© Goode Guy 2011-07-28
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