Your Poetry Dot Com - The Paradox Choked Itself

Array ( [sid] => 139559 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Paradox Choked Itself [time] => 2008-01-03 13:57:33 [hometext] => [bodytext] => In this awkward isolation, I find a real motivation
The pours of a new day rising through
But the intention I desired, was balled up and rolled to fire
On a knife of heat and green I passed to you

The fevers of a Sunday bleed like a child runaway
Hopping trains with stars, fat men and carpenters
Like a passage could ever save you, or leave the room to soothe
On the ache of an ending railway or it’s healing burn

So fit into the fire for you can always live
In a world where you aspire to give all you can give
While your heroes turn the other way into pupils watching your head
It’s a fitting movement till your dead

A paradox was created, between you and the you you hated
And the mirror cracked under weight
Of the form that you intended, while the other two got offended
Till you got caught up with yourself in arbitrary debate

Senses met their matches, in a house made of sticks
Designed in mind of guarding from the storm
Change has made you sorry as pumpkin headed armies
Headed to the patch to make some insolence and harm

So fit into the fire for you can always live
In a world where you aspire to give all you can give
While your heroes turn the other way into pupils watching your head
It’s a fitting movement till your dead

It’s a never-ending movement till your dead
And it probably goes on long after you are dead
[comments] => 0 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Paradox Choked Itself

The Paradox Choked Itself
Date: Thursday, 3rd January 2008 @ 01:57:33 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Franciswolf

In this awkward isolation, I find a real motivation
The pours of a new day rising through
But the intention I desired, was balled up and rolled to fire
On a knife of heat and green I passed to you

The fevers of a Sunday bleed like a child runaway
Hopping trains with stars, fat men and carpenters
Like a passage could ever save you, or leave the room to soothe
On the ache of an ending railway or it’s healing burn

So fit into the fire for you can always live
In a world where you aspire to give all you can give
While your heroes turn the other way into pupils watching your head
It’s a fitting movement till your dead

A paradox was created, between you and the you you hated
And the mirror cracked under weight
Of the form that you intended, while the other two got offended
Till you got caught up with yourself in arbitrary debate

Senses met their matches, in a house made of sticks
Designed in mind of guarding from the storm
Change has made you sorry as pumpkin headed armies
Headed to the patch to make some insolence and harm

So fit into the fire for you can always live
In a world where you aspire to give all you can give
While your heroes turn the other way into pupils watching your head
It’s a fitting movement till your dead

It’s a never-ending movement till your dead
And it probably goes on long after you are dead

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Franciswolf

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