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Literature
truth no. 117
if Dreams were things that could come true,
i would not ask for a pastel-painted house,
or a child's first cry,
or a heart that begets heart.
if Prayers were things that must be answered,
i would not pray for my weight in gold,
or my mind to go awry,
or my heart to forget.
if Time were a thing that could be turned,
i would not go back to correct my mistakes,
or be joy and merry,
or cement a peaceful death.
if Nothing Is Impossible,
then i'd jump into Freddie's boat and borrow his line,
and i'd dream and pray and turn,
that i had never been born at all.
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Literature
my heart is tired
birds chitter and i cover my ears,
a reminder of my featherbrain fears;
flowers blossom and i close my eyes,
a reminder of your stigmatic lies.
a balloon pops and i scream,
a reminder of our shattered shared dream;
candles flicker and i turn,
a reminder of how i would wickedly burn.
a tune, a whiff, a puff, a kiss,
a love, a hurt, a fall, a miss.
my actual plight is this:
tired..
very tired, my heart is
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Literature
of trees and lands
a thousand miles across my heart
and twice the empty pieces,
i crossed the distance only to find
a barrelful of swords.
the trees may cry and the lands may swallow
my pocketful of wishes,
but i am none but a prisoner of
a string of tearful chords.
at nights i spoke of words that may
seem grey to wistful eyes,
up in smoke they gather to float
to haunt me as i sleep.
and as they scamper to drift
after me i draw the nearest lies,
that trees may cry and lands may swallow
but i... i shall not weep.
in the morning after the grass
has greeted the traveling sun,
i'll ready my pack all set in
a bag and this i'll begin to sing:
trees may cry and lands may swallow
after all is said and done,
i'll wander still because no one knows
what tomorrow will eventually bring.
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Literature
Not as It Seems
Finders, Keepers, Losers and Weepers.
Oh, sweet sailor of the seven seas,
That rocks upon the dampen crease;
Thou hath find the Finders true.
Observe the fumbling hearts,
And the drowning souls,
As the navy song starts,
And the river of tears folds;
They shall sing thou blue.
Oh, sorrows of the sallow night,
That grieves for the blinding light;
Thou hath keep the Keepers awake.
Gaze upon the thorned spirits,
And the spiked flesh,
As the raven hope flits,
And the imperial dreams crash;
They shall witness thou break.
But lo and behold!
Oh, barren cage of the fearful queen,
That fences her solitary faith within;
Thou hath lost the Losers imminent misery.
Welcome the stark winter,
And shun the royal passion,
As locked blossoms hinders her,
From breeding fields of jade obsession;
They shall forfeit thou treachery!
Oh, lonely lass, do not sigh in grief,
Your mind would not relent relief;
Thou hath weep the Weeper dry.
Stare across that river of tears,
And leave their hark insolence,
As conte
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Literature
Longing, Finding and Hoping
Longing
Her words has lost its song,
In the absence of his voice.
Her steps have misplaced its dance,
In mourning his guided pace.
Between a beat and a breath,
Left not a formidable choice.
In a dream within wakeful dream,
Dreams of his poignant face..
Finding
Could find no stranger happening,
Than a strong lord to a distressing dame,
Who finds her peace and dreams awakening,
In the way he says her name.
Ties a bind that binds a rope,
Rings a bell that rings so true,
Writes a rhyme that rhymes in hope,
To explain how I found you..
Hoping
To see you smile,
If only in water's reflection.
To feel your touch,
If only between two worlds.
To hear you laugh,
If only within a dream.
I found my words,
If only in your being..
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Literature
The Cage and The Songbird
She was a barren cage,
Of a shrewd ol' master,
Who bought her a songbird,
And placed them together.
The master was fair to she,
But not just to he,
For she a companion who sings,
For he two stolen wings.
She broke his canorous heart,
But he so blissfully made hers,
With his hundred carols of joy,
And thousand ballads of tears.
Then as the days like the wind sweep by,
So does the Delphian years.
She knows he feels caged in,
She knows how the sky calls out,
She knows he feels at home,
Yet still is filled with doubt.
Ah, the cage and oh, the songbird,
When all is said and done,
Is it not painfully beautiful,
How the two became as one?
But if one day ol' master should open the cage's door,
And lay down the songbird his carpet of sky,
Would he stay at home, with home,
Or will he spread his wings and fly?
For the cage will be pleased to let go,
But wordlessly, secretly, the cage will solemnly cry.
The songbird then mournfully thought,
"His freedom or her bliss?"
Thus the cage soothed him
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Literature
Hers and Mine
Does the desert forgive her Circle of Light,
Who dries her withered soul,
And leaves her to drippingly dry?
Does the desert then weep?
That is what my soul seeks.
For if the desert could cry,
Then surely so could I.
Does the desert dream of Drops from Heaven,
Who could soak her drenched thirst,
And drown her with its pearls?
Does the desert then plead?
That is what my soul seeks.
For if the desert could forsake her pride,
Then surely so could my delight.
Does the desert love her Thorns of Jade,
Who sprung from her Beads of Love,
And forgives the Circle of Light,
Then dreams of Drops from Heaven?
That is what my soul seeks.
For it the desert's spirit could survive,
Then mine too could stay alive.
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