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Array
(
[sid] => 140728
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => give me truth
[time] => 2008-03-02 17:24:18
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => the truth that we try so hard to resist, comes forging a path to prove it exists. I leave this behind my one, trite blind eye & turnicated heart on the steps of good-bye. I wince at mere thoughts, ghosts of a yesterdays' eve, cloaked in the garb of what I percieve & skirt the intention once too blurred to believe to be mine, but it quakes, so I bow I conceed. my own style berserk with innocent pleas. I witness my witnessing to stall at the throng of needleling ways kept close far too long. does peace come to me, does it wait to attend loves' funeral pyre angels herald, a hymn enticing us in. daunting wings take to air trace the sky take us in. . . nothing to mask truths' endless stare or suspend. so heavenwards chaste spirits rise to be free. to free themselves of these lies folded tight, still they breath. surrounded I struggle but I can not free me. origamied up & wrapped up just so. & tucked away so these lies, they can grow to massive proportion with a cowards haste by conscious choosing interlaced with careless motive & aimless pace & having not the will to relate to strife, or the heart for fork- tongued delight, no recipe seems fitting for all of the spite. I leave behind a chalice of words. overdue. & ridicule now brought, a taunting, absurd, grows tinier, it grew so as to scope it's own destiny through the eyes of my world & blindly to grope the edge of each sanity a broad spectrum, the entire breed. I rally to listen, to my ears disease. sowing questions & waiting for truth 'til i bleed. I squander time as it expand by degrees. I skip & I stroll this fathomed land as I please where all that awaits is awakening for me to the truth, ever foreign, allied in need. a dot & a dash a signal crossed so I plead. my God I am vexed. my will seems lost but I won't balk I won't flee. aware of the danger to just overlook the demon child, a premise, an idling nook where ideas spin reckless & seek to disturb the will of intention the will meant to serve. it matters not if the real is thus spurned. a fragment found. tattered. a shred somewhat burned. please. . . give me truth as beautys' kind aid. the context we chose met demise, fawned decay. it reeked in a manner that never suited you. a mild absence of meaning left words much askew to hypnotize & then to subdue this sense of shame for the garden we grew. strange, sad creature alone without any fruit. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 242 [topic] => 73 [informant] => elle [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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