Thrash About Poems - Poems about Thrash About

In the twilight of our thoughts, we thrash in the waves of unconfessed guilt, Consciousness, a curse of silence, reveals the world in all its hidden cruelty. We are lost actors on the stage of an endless tragedy, playing roles of helplessness and fear, Human nature, the merciless director, drives us toward an end where truth is buried...

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Thoughts thrash in my weary mind, like waves of the sea in an endless storm, Consciousness, our eternal curse, reveals the world in all its cruel splendor. We are actors lost on an immense stage, playing roles we did not choose, Nature, the merciless director, drives us toward an unchangeable end. I look around and see only shadows dancing...

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When sirens thrash, no longer calm the sea - bulging eyes from every sailor on the ship. Bye-bye lullaby song, where swagger’s carefree. Even a well-seasoned captain loses his grip. There’s boundless beauty in the courtship - crashing waves, sublime figure-eight sensuality. Still, seamen should know - there’ll be no round trip. When sirens thrash, no longer calm the sea. Voices bellow from...

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Thud This thing born of breath and bone, Seated on its secret throne, A harbinger of ignition, Pulling us from our perdition. Thud By the dream and the waking, Anger ripe for the taking; It reaps the spite from our minds. By moon and star, flesh it grinds. Thud Distortion: its holy blade. Singing songs of pain and rage Wrought of mortal blood and steel, Hefted high with fervent...

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everything is well ready to invite on the quay of cordial invitation on the queue of loving reception winter winds flapping the wings of coolness spring breezes awaking on the bed of coming ready the mask of rapturous ceremony the wine of cheers the food for poverty happiness the cloths of elated mind the delightful environment...

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O' master of my heart! Pray to thee Thrash the grain against the chaff This heart is sterile and barren like a babe has its partner but without being grave Let it have union with thee to create a zygot of virtuosity When the foetus is ready to move around the womb don't let it guard on its own since the soul on...

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*****seems so much better when you push against the wood, To bring back the rush from the first time you stood. Like and infectious bug or addictive drug it courses through your blood And, takes over your body, controls your mind and hands. Every thought that you have is consumed by thrashing streets. While your up in the air your...

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