Based on the Williams Brothers hit "Can't cry hard enough"
I never understood,
The screams you made,
I only knew how to react,
I never believed in vent,
But I believed in you,
I guess the screams got in the way,
We made a painting based on our screams,
But everyone bought it except you,
It was too personal,
And to me it was too easy,
To neglect,
I just feel you can't carry these all the time, the screams,
It's embarrassing and awkward, somewhat,
But to you, it was a badge of honor,
To show how much you were dissatisfied,
With what, usually all of the above,
But like the air out of the vent,
It went everywhere to solve nothing,
But to burn and freeze at the same time,
Incredible, it gave and gives nothing,
Empty stools, after the Pepto did its work,
Is all that is left, and maybe all it was,
Empty chairs, after the rain came,
Is where we go to be alone and strange,
To display longing like some famous and distant pose,
That we all talk about to see people say "ga-ga",
Everyday was the last,
And the last never ended,
It echoes through the rooms,
Like a poltergeist, an unresting entity,
Of memory and anger and unsatisfaction,
And all I do is neglect and turn a deaf body,
Have I become numb or just thick-skinned?,
And yet the flower grows within the ruins,
It becomes stronger than the screams, in fact,
It scares the screams away,
It knows not what to do with the flower,
It uses the vent to grow,
And it seeds and pollen soothes the aching voices,
There is no need to hear the loudness,
But there is great anticipation to hear subtle,
Civilized and yet it comes, love,
And it does not "Vent', it blows through the fields,
And hugs itself upon our voices,
Our bodies, our souls, and with our kisses,
Yes with our kisses of good-day and good-night,
The dancer moves without a trace,
Poetry by Saga
Read 548 times
Written on 2006-11-13 at 06:34
Tags Scream
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I can't scream loud enough
I never understood,
The screams you made,
I only knew how to react,
I never believed in vent,
But I believed in you,
I guess the screams got in the way,
We made a painting based on our screams,
But everyone bought it except you,
It was too personal,
And to me it was too easy,
To neglect,
I just feel you can't carry these all the time, the screams,
It's embarrassing and awkward, somewhat,
But to you, it was a badge of honor,
To show how much you were dissatisfied,
With what, usually all of the above,
But like the air out of the vent,
It went everywhere to solve nothing,
But to burn and freeze at the same time,
Incredible, it gave and gives nothing,
Empty stools, after the Pepto did its work,
Is all that is left, and maybe all it was,
Empty chairs, after the rain came,
Is where we go to be alone and strange,
To display longing like some famous and distant pose,
That we all talk about to see people say "ga-ga",
Everyday was the last,
And the last never ended,
It echoes through the rooms,
Like a poltergeist, an unresting entity,
Of memory and anger and unsatisfaction,
And all I do is neglect and turn a deaf body,
Have I become numb or just thick-skinned?,
And yet the flower grows within the ruins,
It becomes stronger than the screams, in fact,
It scares the screams away,
It knows not what to do with the flower,
It uses the vent to grow,
And it seeds and pollen soothes the aching voices,
There is no need to hear the loudness,
But there is great anticipation to hear subtle,
Civilized and yet it comes, love,
And it does not "Vent', it blows through the fields,
And hugs itself upon our voices,
Our bodies, our souls, and with our kisses,
Yes with our kisses of good-day and good-night,
The dancer moves without a trace,
Poetry by Saga
Read 548 times
Written on 2006-11-13 at 06:34
Tags Scream
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Kathy Lockhart |
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lastromantichero |
