Completely winged this one. Only the first line was planned.
tightening its hold,
choking the air between the beast and its victim,
the loving embrace of nicotine,
or perhaps the leafy green.
Every soldier needs his vices,
every doctor needs his woes,
every student needs his freedom,
we all know how it goes.
An oak seed sprouds and is growing,
slowly,
ever slowly,
it can be torn apart in an instant,
or be left to flourish.
O Merciful Mother!
O Pacifistic Father!
O Loving, Caring Brother!
~I've never been so bad off before.~
Every pirate needs his vices,
every lover needs his woes,
every prisoner needs his freedom,
we all know how it goes.
Ascension,
to the boundless peaks of mighty heaven!
But does this "heaven" exist?
Or is it hidden from our eyes?
Trapped beneath a web of lies?
Powerful man,
ravaged by hunger and lack of
the loving embrace of nicotine,
or perhaps the leafy green.
Sweating desolate in his chair!
Crimson thoughts of death and gore
streaking through his poor head!
O the Humanity!
O Merciful Mother!
O Pacifistic Father!
O Loving, Caring Sister!
~I've never been so bad off before.~
And I will never be again
as my death clock sounds at half past ten!
Vices.
Poetry by Lucas
Read 1371 times
Written on 2006-10-13 at 19:04
Tags Drugs Vices Death
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Vices
Of a vice grip,tightening its hold,
choking the air between the beast and its victim,
the loving embrace of nicotine,
or perhaps the leafy green.
Every soldier needs his vices,
every doctor needs his woes,
every student needs his freedom,
we all know how it goes.
An oak seed sprouds and is growing,
slowly,
ever slowly,
it can be torn apart in an instant,
or be left to flourish.
O Merciful Mother!
O Pacifistic Father!
O Loving, Caring Brother!
~I've never been so bad off before.~
Every pirate needs his vices,
every lover needs his woes,
every prisoner needs his freedom,
we all know how it goes.
Ascension,
to the boundless peaks of mighty heaven!
But does this "heaven" exist?
Or is it hidden from our eyes?
Trapped beneath a web of lies?
Powerful man,
ravaged by hunger and lack of
the loving embrace of nicotine,
or perhaps the leafy green.
Sweating desolate in his chair!
Crimson thoughts of death and gore
streaking through his poor head!
O the Humanity!
O Merciful Mother!
O Pacifistic Father!
O Loving, Caring Sister!
~I've never been so bad off before.~
And I will never be again
as my death clock sounds at half past ten!
Vices.
Poetry by Lucas
Read 1371 times
Written on 2006-10-13 at 19:04
Tags Drugs Vices Death
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Zachary P. B. |
|
Russell |
|
PoeticProcrastination |
|
David Hazell |
