and that to be surfaced we must face our fears.
others say that innocence can only be found
on a cheek untouched by multiple tears.
these clean swept eyes and merry voices are
masked by weary bodies and aching souls.
we find oursleves while walking upon shaky ground,
others as they come upon the truth and find that:
there is a cloud over perfection.
the morbid aura 'round a ray of light.
a crown of thorns on delcate features.
a cloud over perfection.
monotoned emphasis on well-seeming flatteries.
a heigth so graceful the wind seems clumsy.
burnt to a crisp, under correct conditions,
a conclusion found only by looking at it like this:
there is a cloud over perfection.
the morbid aura 'round a ray of light.
a crown of thorns on delcate features.
a cloud over perfection.
frozen life in a fire blazoned hell,
plastered to the point where intoxication is expected.
meditate on the chaos, in a quiet suite,
children climbing for their lives.
mothers hoping to teach their young ones
that life isn't what it seems to be; that:
there is a cloud over perfection.
the morbid aura 'round a ray of light.
a crown of thorns on delcate features.
a cloud over perfection.
As poets often do,
and I think about the world,
and I dream about you.
You say my hopes should
fade away, because a dream
is but a fantasy.
You say our friendship
will soon be gone, because my
heart is full of jealousy.
In bright of day,
when all is well,
And life should be too smooth
I realize it's said and done,
and upon my lips you move.
I sleep to dream, and
dream I shall, for there's
world's that are between
us now
And now it all is said and done.
and you are the dream that has yet to come.
programmed to think?
I say erase all that useless data
What if artwork became Picasso
and music returned to Mozart?
Not the notes we play by heart; chopsticks
Matrices we have created;
will beauty never be in the heart,
or will it reamin in the drive for advancement;
technology?
And will you forget the passion
in receiving a written love letter?
In walking deep in the woods,
no phone to urge communication
What of the things the future demands?
I say let them rot.
What of the needs of today?
Unimportant?
Our minds are trained,
and those who awake,
aah, they are truly free
glued to almost nothingness
felt because i wanted to be felt
and the foe creeps silently
feeling me with barren palms
my wings are pulled and bled of life
the sparkles slowly fade
and the vines pull down a veil
of any world that might have seen
and cascade between
the fragile strands of my hair
I wore the delacacies like a slip,
the smooth threads beading down my
fresh skin
At night these thoughts of men
and other materialistic values rush upon
innocence and perversity
Shooting from my fingertips like moonbeams,
an aura of light fills the empty space
I pour the sparkling darkness out like water,
the spectrum trickling
down the sides of the skyline on this
shadowy planet
At night when the mind is free and dreams
are fuel for the stars, my thoughts
wander aimlessly and fall upon you
