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Array ( [sid] => 119801 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => My White Tee Angel [time] => 2006-05-10 08:57:02 [hometext] => For my white tee angel [bodytext] => My white tee angel,
dwells in the pits of southeast
where death sleeps
and the street sweepers sweep dreams
away like dust,
Yet I must...

Continue this indulgence
with the lust for love,
found in this dust like dove,
who flies across skies,
of purple haze so high,
and eats buds
from the same ten dollar bags
his brothers blazed,
trapped in the streets,
like a rate in a maze,
or like my feelings incaged in rage,
Yet my love he still has...

His blessed Nike boots tread glass,
from barred windows as he passed
the home where glass tubes
grasp the veins of a mans
present and past
and the problems he still have
Yet I seek his past...

From another pain,
hidden on another plane,
his suffering plain in my eyes,
as he spreads burnt wings
towards the sky
only to reach
to try
to fall
in vain,
created and burned in the flames
consisting of the fires of his desires
that constantly plagued his dreams,
Yet it is for him I sing...

A song on a higher note than death,
and a verse longer than time eternal,
on a tone deeper than the maternal
instinct,
but shorter than the last breath
he breathed before
his second death on the street,
caused by the heated metal charged into his chest,
now I know my angel was blest,
Yet my angel bled...

As he shed tears from wounds
hidden in womb like emotional tombs
for fear of tombstones
of being alone,
but he was tstill left to bleed
as he was allowed to breathe
and his heart beat,
as he punctured his eyes with needles,
because my white tee angel couldn’t stand to see
the pain,
but unknowingly,
the same pain that would set me free.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 184 [topic] => 13 [informant] => RealCrystal [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

My White Tee Angel

Contributed by RealCrystal on Wednesday, 10th May 2006 @ 08:57:02 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

My white tee angel,
dwells in the pits of southeast
where death sleeps
and the street sweepers sweep dreams
away like dust,
Yet I must...

Continue this indulgence
with the lust for love,
found in this dust like dove,
who flies across skies,
of purple haze so high,
and eats buds
from the same ten dollar bags
his brothers blazed,
trapped in the streets,
like a rate in a maze,
or like my feelings incaged in rage,
Yet my love he still has...

His blessed Nike boots tread glass,
from barred windows as he passed
the home where glass tubes
grasp the veins of a mans
present and past
and the problems he still have
Yet I seek his past...

From another pain,
hidden on another plane,
his suffering plain in my eyes,
as he spreads burnt wings
towards the sky
only to reach
to try
to fall
in vain,
created and burned in the flames
consisting of the fires of his desires
that constantly plagued his dreams,
Yet it is for him I sing...

A song on a higher note than death,
and a verse longer than time eternal,
on a tone deeper than the maternal
instinct,
but shorter than the last breath
he breathed before
his second death on the street,
caused by the heated metal charged into his chest,
now I know my angel was blest,
Yet my angel bled...

As he shed tears from wounds
hidden in womb like emotional tombs
for fear of tombstones
of being alone,
but he was tstill left to bleed
as he was allowed to breathe
and his heart beat,
as he punctured his eyes with needles,
because my white tee angel couldn’t stand to see
the pain,
but unknowingly,
the same pain that would set me free.

Copyright Â© RealCrystal ... [ 2006-05-10 08:57:02]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: My White Tee Angel (User Rating: 1 )
by katt on Wednesday, 10th May 2006 @ 04:12:11 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Very moving and emotional. Words of pain and sadness. A good read. Good imagery.

Katt

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