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Emery Porter Poem
The poets of our time go down as the Greats.
Those who wear disguises go down as fakes.
The rebels go down as revolutionaries.
Those who oppose the divine rule go down as non-believers.
Rain lightning its scary.
I sit in the middle of it all, pondering.
what will my legacy be.
Will the city only whisper chaos.
Or will the ground shake because of the pandemonium it brings.
Or will i become a ghost.
Forgotten by most.
Remembered by few.
A mans worst fear like a warriors seppuku.
Blood spews on the podium.
But your death wasn't honored.
It was forgotten.
buried under the sands of time.
But not I.
My legacy, My time.
Copyright © Emery Porter | Year Posted 2012
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Emery Porter Poem
The good die young.
So we perform these evil deeds.
Then pray for forgiveness, on our bloodstained knees.
Not because we are cold hearted.
But because we cling to life with an ambition.
Secrets blow in the wind, just listen.
And make out the codes.
Dig tunnels into the earths surface in search of gold.
Bloody knuckles as we fight for our freedom.
Bloody flags wrapped around our swords as we fight for our kingdom.
And our homes.
We roam.
Trying to find the key to life.
Young rebels, our torches light up the night.
Copyright © Emery Porter | Year Posted 2012
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Emery Porter Poem
Everything's Black.
My heart my emotions.
My body levitates to higher planes my soul is coasting.
Above the devil's city.
Lost hope forgotten dreams.
As the lights go out blinding red beams.
stray slugs penetrate temples.
Holy wars, the righteous stand against rebels.
Angelic spirits ward of devils.
I close my eyes as the world rotates around me.
The center of my universe.
Around every corner, sin lurks.
Two lost angels follow a black hearse.
They never seen it coming.
Copyright © Emery Porter | Year Posted 2012
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