Saturday, November 10, 2007

Crhymes

This is how a child writes in verse. This is how you inverse a child.
This is a short dialogue i wrote in verse.


“I don’t trust you, or your laughter. I don’t trust anything that you’re after. When push comes to shove and I fall madly in love, I trust no one who isn’t in love with my Master.
I find no solace in you, and I know not what to do. A view that’s not askew is all I ever ask of you, but you never comply when repeatedly I try to find and lose myself in you.
So I go back to my Master and ask Him to cast her, out and away from my heart for a day that would last longer than it took for her not to look upon me with much disdain and cause me such pain as I never felt before when I was stronger.” said I to her who is now only a blur.

“Do you drink?” she asked and passed me the glass.

I said, “No, alas, I think that is one vice that could not properly entice, someone like me who makes no sense to thee and though you may try as hard as I to make me partake but the moment I awake I would curse every ache that your drink caused my head and made me feel as if lead had infiltrated my soul or a savage looking monster had devoured me whole.”

“You are incorrigible and incurable, persistent and deplorable. You say that you love me but you talk to your Lord? When I walk away, you beg me, call me a merciless sword? I am no such thing you fool, only human am I. Yesterday I came to be and tomorrow I’ll die. And all this time I have spent in the middle, trying to understand your ostentatious riddle. No I don’t love your Master and wish you had none. For then I would be all, your moon and your sun.” said she then to me and prepared to flee.

I held her back and refused to let go, then told her my story or at least that which I know, “You don’t understand, I’m split into two. I love my Lord but I love you too. Impossible though that is and makes no sense to thee, I wish I could make it plain to see. Go if you must, my choice I have made. I have wasted much time and will not be repaid. But listen carefully to what I have to say. They longed for words and found them in strings. Hoped for that which they could not have in rings, they saw them together and saw them apart, waited forever for tomorrow to start. They spent all their time in trying to find the best way to alter perception of mind. Some stumbled, some fell, and some rallied around the same old familiar spot on the ground. Fleeing in spirit the unseeing eye and choosing to believe that they had but to try. But was it all written? Was it all meant to be? Did we have a choice? Were we ever truly free? Naturally of course the paragraph did close; once poetry was stifled they strangled the prose. In the nakedness of nature the force was revealed. We had now the answer but no one was healed.”

So now everything is lost and I prefer it this way. Life was much simpler when I woke up today.

The End

(That last sentence...implies that it's all good. I know "poured me a glass" sounds nicer...but i prefer "passed me the glass." actually i prefer poured me a glass...but nobody did)

3 Comments:

At November 11, 2007 at 8:27 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Tis many a words that hath made up the rhymes
that could elicit a tear and choke out a crhyme

to be tried for a sin that was only a thought
and martyred in wars that were yet to be fought

to be chained to a poem and tied up in prose
is nay but the sadness of dried up a rose

this sparring and rhyming of words is a violence
true beauty my fried lies only in silence

And so i must leave you as so many a time
i urge you to write me so silent a mime

may i see from a distance so perfect an art
that i feel with my eyes and i cry with my heart


The beauty of a prostrate believer.

salams
reluctant

 
At November 15, 2007 at 8:13 PM , Blogger Duck said...

an attempt it was just...
was it just? i'm not sure

perhaps it was too simple
perhaps a waste of time, a bore

in all honesty the first stanza
although there was no such thing

was written in much anger
the rest was just...a song i wouldn't sing.

i know not what to do
or what to say in response to you

i would gladly sell my bit
for but a piece of your shit.

hahaha

 
At November 16, 2007 at 10:04 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

* parts pimpled cheeks of bottom skillfully and sprays skunk scent all over ugly blog*

desires basheer ke machi desperately for perhaps a tuesday or a wednesday?

 

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