Tanelorn
Sparkle, sparkle.
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A lot of these are super old. Some, I like more than others. But, hey, I ain't pretendin' to be no fancy-pants here. For the most part, older ones (like nearly a decade ago) are listed first but not in any real order... and I generally don't give a lick about rhyming. </p>
<div style="text-align:center;"><p><strong>Icarus, le Soleil, Désir, et Moi</strong> Oh, how dazzling you are Such blinding warmth to make me Deny the bitter cold wind Oh, how I long to meet you So I built my wings On Icarian dreams And felt that we'd meet Finally, loving sun To transcend being human And soar to your embrace Made me realize abruptly That I surpassed nothing Icarus failed again Shame on me for not Building upon past designs The wax wings failed again Your enveloping love Was the cause of my death It would have been for the best To have adored you from the ground Icarus et le soleil Et désir ardent et moi... Le rideau se ferme Sur ma folie. <strong>Revolution </strong> It was a warm day No, a sweltering day By a road A boy and me, alone We were just waiting Patiently, for a bus By a road A boy and me, alone He was restless and sweaty And clearly not ready For his life Just a child, alone Too young to leave home Too old to not look ahead It's his life Just a child, alone Ants were scurrying All about the highway To and fro They knew were to go It was their task in life To forage sustenance Work and die And in the meantime, survive But the boy knew one thing: That ants, too, can die One by one He crushed the ants Ants are stronger than they seem But he didn't notice that He killed them Indiscriminately At least he's politically correct. I really wanted to speak, But I could not Voice my words The day was too hot I would have said, "You may squish a few, But a million ants would squish you." The bus came down the road. <strong>Because the Sky is Too Depressing </strong> Today I walked the streets With much more clarity Than before I used In my daily routine The colors of the ground Were all dark and all bare As my comrades' faces Were placid without care I stopped to wonder why They never had eyes upturned To the blues, the violets, the reds; The colors of the sky I turned to a youth so mild That his eyes were much lowered And of him I inquired, "Why not gaze upon the sky?" And then replied the boy, "Sir, it is depressing." Maybe he was not so coy Was what I soon realized So then I left the streets To ponder his words The next day I said, "My boy, not to the birds." <strong>Pennies for the Dead</strong> He made off with a shovel Taken from a stranger's hovel The wintry wind froze his skin A retribution for his sin With utter disregard He crossed a boulevard Of barren trees, graves, and mist He held the shovel with clenched fists Such pretty, pretty eyes Unable to see skies Pennies for the dead Give a man warm bread <strong>A Pseudo-Epic of Dirt</strong> A wand’ring worm, without a way Languidly sways through the soil; And casually consumes it, The dirt, without a reason Succumbing to whim He pokes out the brim Of his wiry frame And lacks a way still A soaring bird from on high Glides dang’rously to the ground Without a sound, snatches A worm without a way Succumbing to hunger He swallowed him whole The worm without a way Ate dirt no more A bounding cat from the wilds Seized hold of the bird in her maw And she was read’ly on her way Without a thought for the dead bird But time was not kind To the strong feline With her bones brittle The old cat did break The strongest cat; The most skillful bird; And the aimless worm All became dirt A wand’ring worm, without a way Languidly sways through the soil; And casually consumes it, The dirt, without a reason <strong>Revolución</strong> Being able to rise In arms and in words To bring forth change Is that not wonderful? But lacking conviction Devolving into fools Will disolving like foam Is that not frightening? Having the power To change one's own world But preferring to dress As sheep to the slaughter It is nothing more Than a revolution That just didn't happen A stagnant novelty <strong>The Friend that Never Came</strong> The streetlight flickers And offers fleeting light Why am I outside waiting Where the chill long lingers? A friend said he would come Thus, I believe his words I'll stay under this streetlight Because he <em>will</em> be here A moth flutters nearby And it makes me wonder "Mr. Moth, are you the one? Why have you come so late?" So entranced was Mr. Moth By the fickle streetlight That he wandered through a crack And upon contact, he died "Where are you, my friend? What keeps you from my side?" I questioned the darkness Which betrayed me for sunrise Blazing red-orange stretching Across the horizon Was the warm, peeking sun The friend I was waiting for? I did not know Still do not know Might never know But I believe (In the friend that never came) <strong>Two Households</strong> In the morning of spring's first breath He peered through the murky glass Of the large and vast estate To recall upon the reason Of why he traveled so far from home Of why he silently watched All that should have but was not there Bedight in the drapery Of the gushing, lolling earth He wondered why the piano Was muted and layered with dust He wondered why all the lights Never held a dancing flame Why was there not a soul To marvel at the beauteous land? Suddenly it dawned upon him In the morning of spring's first breath Garbed only in his worn clothes That his home was equally void And was similarly alone <strong>Of a Decedent</strong> Shades of despondency Woven into my pall Oh, how I regret To have not lived at all <strong>Babel in Flesh</strong> So you preach your rules They're faulty to logic And ludicrous to heart It's all because <em>you</em> "know" <em>You</em> know Its mind <em>You</em> know Its desires <em>You</em> know Its mandates <em>You</em> simply know It Whatever "It" is So what right do <em>you</em> have? To spout out <em>your</em> orders In that selfish way I hear not Its word There's something lacking What is that missing thing? Could it possible be… "It" that is not present? What then are you? Babel in the flesh? <em>YOU</em> know god? I doubt It knows you. <strong>Broken Glass</strong> This glass is shattered Battered by time And cannot cater To your standards It lies in pieces And thus pleases none But oh how they stare At it under the sun Though no part is lost No one offers to mend But prod and offend This broken glass</p></div>
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A lot of these are super old. Some, I like more than others. But, hey, I ain't pretendin' to be no fancy-pants here. For the most part, older ones (like nearly a decade ago) are listed first but not in any real order... and I generally don't give a lick about rhyming. </p>
<div style="text-align:center;"><p><strong>Icarus, le Soleil, Désir, et Moi</strong> Oh, how dazzling you are Such blinding warmth to make me Deny the bitter cold wind Oh, how I long to meet you So I built my wings On Icarian dreams And felt that we'd meet Finally, loving sun To transcend being human And soar to your embrace Made me realize abruptly That I surpassed nothing Icarus failed again Shame on me for not Building upon past designs The wax wings failed again Your enveloping love Was the cause of my death It would have been for the best To have adored you from the ground Icarus et le soleil Et désir ardent et moi... Le rideau se ferme Sur ma folie. <strong>Revolution </strong> It was a warm day No, a sweltering day By a road A boy and me, alone We were just waiting Patiently, for a bus By a road A boy and me, alone He was restless and sweaty And clearly not ready For his life Just a child, alone Too young to leave home Too old to not look ahead It's his life Just a child, alone Ants were scurrying All about the highway To and fro They knew were to go It was their task in life To forage sustenance Work and die And in the meantime, survive But the boy knew one thing: That ants, too, can die One by one He crushed the ants Ants are stronger than they seem But he didn't notice that He killed them Indiscriminately At least he's politically correct. I really wanted to speak, But I could not Voice my words The day was too hot I would have said, "You may squish a few, But a million ants would squish you." The bus came down the road. <strong>Because the Sky is Too Depressing </strong> Today I walked the streets With much more clarity Than before I used In my daily routine The colors of the ground Were all dark and all bare As my comrades' faces Were placid without care I stopped to wonder why They never had eyes upturned To the blues, the violets, the reds; The colors of the sky I turned to a youth so mild That his eyes were much lowered And of him I inquired, "Why not gaze upon the sky?" And then replied the boy, "Sir, it is depressing." Maybe he was not so coy Was what I soon realized So then I left the streets To ponder his words The next day I said, "My boy, not to the birds." <strong>Pennies for the Dead</strong> He made off with a shovel Taken from a stranger's hovel The wintry wind froze his skin A retribution for his sin With utter disregard He crossed a boulevard Of barren trees, graves, and mist He held the shovel with clenched fists Such pretty, pretty eyes Unable to see skies Pennies for the dead Give a man warm bread <strong>A Pseudo-Epic of Dirt</strong> A wand’ring worm, without a way Languidly sways through the soil; And casually consumes it, The dirt, without a reason Succumbing to whim He pokes out the brim Of his wiry frame And lacks a way still A soaring bird from on high Glides dang’rously to the ground Without a sound, snatches A worm without a way Succumbing to hunger He swallowed him whole The worm without a way Ate dirt no more A bounding cat from the wilds Seized hold of the bird in her maw And she was read’ly on her way Without a thought for the dead bird But time was not kind To the strong feline With her bones brittle The old cat did break The strongest cat; The most skillful bird; And the aimless worm All became dirt A wand’ring worm, without a way Languidly sways through the soil; And casually consumes it, The dirt, without a reason <strong>Revolución</strong> Being able to rise In arms and in words To bring forth change Is that not wonderful? But lacking conviction Devolving into fools Will disolving like foam Is that not frightening? Having the power To change one's own world But preferring to dress As sheep to the slaughter It is nothing more Than a revolution That just didn't happen A stagnant novelty <strong>The Friend that Never Came</strong> The streetlight flickers And offers fleeting light Why am I outside waiting Where the chill long lingers? A friend said he would come Thus, I believe his words I'll stay under this streetlight Because he <em>will</em> be here A moth flutters nearby And it makes me wonder "Mr. Moth, are you the one? Why have you come so late?" So entranced was Mr. Moth By the fickle streetlight That he wandered through a crack And upon contact, he died "Where are you, my friend? What keeps you from my side?" I questioned the darkness Which betrayed me for sunrise Blazing red-orange stretching Across the horizon Was the warm, peeking sun The friend I was waiting for? I did not know Still do not know Might never know But I believe (In the friend that never came) <strong>Two Households</strong> In the morning of spring's first breath He peered through the murky glass Of the large and vast estate To recall upon the reason Of why he traveled so far from home Of why he silently watched All that should have but was not there Bedight in the drapery Of the gushing, lolling earth He wondered why the piano Was muted and layered with dust He wondered why all the lights Never held a dancing flame Why was there not a soul To marvel at the beauteous land? Suddenly it dawned upon him In the morning of spring's first breath Garbed only in his worn clothes That his home was equally void And was similarly alone <strong>Of a Decedent</strong> Shades of despondency Woven into my pall Oh, how I regret To have not lived at all <strong>Babel in Flesh</strong> So you preach your rules They're faulty to logic And ludicrous to heart It's all because <em>you</em> "know" <em>You</em> know Its mind <em>You</em> know Its desires <em>You</em> know Its mandates <em>You</em> simply know It Whatever "It" is So what right do <em>you</em> have? To spout out <em>your</em> orders In that selfish way I hear not Its word There's something lacking What is that missing thing? Could it possible be… "It" that is not present? What then are you? Babel in the flesh? <em>YOU</em> know god? I doubt It knows you. <strong>Broken Glass</strong> This glass is shattered Battered by time And cannot cater To your standards It lies in pieces And thus pleases none But oh how they stare At it under the sun Though no part is lost No one offers to mend But prod and offend This broken glass</p></div>
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If you want to put some work into it and are open to it, I could give you a proper critique when I get the spare hour. It wouldn't be gentle, but it would be helpful and I rarely bother unless I think there's potential.
