alt_esc
10/09/09, 07:57 PM
On days left gone,
Unleft we seem to be.
i'll grasp movement,
Only misunderstanding meaning--
Not the statement.
Too take another wonder,
Would only leave me blind.
Confusion only thieves,
But casts what it has looted.
i wonder if it was the mood.
The theme, oh the theme.
What finds me most recently,
Or the last time i questioned--
It was the message;
The first attempt to learn a vital lesson.
Stop in stanzas,
Repeat the title.
Use evidence and question the poet.
If useful as ever,
He should recognize another cliche.
i only wish to form,
Not to find.
i don't want to grab,
Or pull,
Or ramble,
Nor speak of nonsense,
But feel, then act as if i felt first--
Then perform the lines.
They are my own,
All mine,
Yet i borrowed them out,
Only to be returned with perfection--
That i will never recieve.
On a simple note--
First of the day--
i am tired,
Unread of mistake,
At least outloud.
i share nothing,
Yet i record less.
i keep my time,
my secrets,
my words,
my questions--
The mistakes of many,
i fear.
Unleft we seem to be.
i'll grasp movement,
Only misunderstanding meaning--
Not the statement.
Too take another wonder,
Would only leave me blind.
Confusion only thieves,
But casts what it has looted.
i wonder if it was the mood.
The theme, oh the theme.
What finds me most recently,
Or the last time i questioned--
It was the message;
The first attempt to learn a vital lesson.
Stop in stanzas,
Repeat the title.
Use evidence and question the poet.
If useful as ever,
He should recognize another cliche.
i only wish to form,
Not to find.
i don't want to grab,
Or pull,
Or ramble,
Nor speak of nonsense,
But feel, then act as if i felt first--
Then perform the lines.
They are my own,
All mine,
Yet i borrowed them out,
Only to be returned with perfection--
That i will never recieve.
On a simple note--
First of the day--
i am tired,
Unread of mistake,
At least outloud.
i share nothing,
Yet i record less.
i keep my time,
my secrets,
my words,
my questions--
The mistakes of many,
i fear.