I got a little black book with my poems in...

Guess I'd better find a keyboard to start learning.

Goodbye for a little while,
I'm going now you see,
The one you love so dearly,
Isn't me,
Goodbye for a little while,
I'm going to a tree,
Where the roots of my existence,
Will be,

'Cause I've got another life,
One you wouldn't see,
It's just like your life,
But it's happening to me,
An individual tree,

Why don't you take a look,
Couldn't it be true,
That the happy face the clown,
Has feelings too,
He lives with troubles,
That turns the clown to blue,
Look at me Your Honour,
Say it's true,

'Cause I've got another life,
One you wouldn't see,
It's just like your life,
But it's happening to me,
An individual tree.

But he'll be back like you want him,
The tree stands on its own,
It's 'cause the clown exists,
The tree can't grow,
But I still need that tree,
I stand there on my own,
That sorry sappling, Me?
You'll never know,

'Cause I've got another life,
One you wouldn't see,
It's just like your life,
But it's happening to me,
An individual tree.

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Wrote that when I was about 17. Sounds kinda silly now, but I'm still fond of it.

Sounding good Driven, I need to get more writing done but I have lost track of time. Most of my time now is in my band. We're metalcore, really heavy stuff. Later.

I feel like writing so everything you are about to read is 'spur of the moment' stuff.
------
The Black Shadows of February Sky

a window view, this freezing night is all i need to keep this sense of feeling burning like the gentlest of candles. the hazy mist filled my lungs as the angels scattered the blur across darkest lands to the point where eyes must strain to see. the hands of any grizzled man would tremble upon entry of this midnight's highest altitude. we must leave only footsteps and exhale as a thousand twigs melt under our boots like a glassy frozen puzzle. our minds gather deep inside the warmest cave of our imagination to rekindle what we once lost, in the coldest of winters. i ask myself a thousand times a day, why must hearts be broken and scattered across the sky by these rusty angel hands, only to fall back down to the earth in the slowest motion, for me to watch in wander with childlike eyes of my window at night?

_________________
"I open the door, to an empty room, then I forget."--'Paintbox'-Pink Floyd
"...found my way upstairs and had a smoke, somebody spoke and I went into a dream"--'A Day In The Life'-The Beatles

(phew!) Man I enjoyed that one. Im gonna write it down incase it gets lost forever. Hope you guys/gals enjoyed it!

Kinda like Seamus, I've just made this one in the last five minutes. Was going to have a little nap but I couldn't get the first line out of my head so I had to expand on it.

Sorry if it's depressing but, hey, it's so much easier to write when you're feeling a little low, isn't it!

------------------------------------

Love is not easy for me to feel,
My head always gets in the way, likes to be at the wheel,
My heart likes to dream but the scars from the past make it hard to accept when it's real,
Love is not easy for me to feel,

You don't know me like I do,
So please don't just smile and say "Somewhere She's waiting for you",
I've spent many years on my own fighting fears but I still cannot love like you do,
You don't know me like I do

Rock on Seamus, and chin up Driven.

WOW Driven, I really like that. I understand the emotion in that and welcome it. I love reading poems that speak of the downside of 'love'. Love for me is usually a four letter lie. So I see how hard it is to love for you too. Man we've got it bad. But we write it well. Good job man, keep em' coming. Later.

Hey Driven, or whoever else is reading...I've got my website up and running, where I'm posting all of my ideas, poems, pics, links, etc. The address is:

www.angelfire.com/clone/thedreamsofangels/index.html

Check it out if you want, if you dont want to, do it anyways. Later guys.

Well it seems that this part of the website has died down a little too much, so here are a few of my poems from my webpage.


FOR MY LINDA- - - -if the silence ever escaped from the heart of my angel, the one being who watched me struggle, my sky would fall inward and collapse into a state of eternal darkness, being witnessed by the thousands of eyes in the hearts of children. i always knew that i had buried myself in the thickest mud of sorrow with willows weaping, looking down and crying as i sank deeper in my pit of broken sky. where were my angels when my hands rose out of my insanity and nearly seperated themselves from my weak body as they reached for the only stars in the midnight sky? only to come to realization that these stars were your angels, turning their backs on you and shining down on you as a reminder that they never cared for you at all. the only angels in my life that i believed in were images bought by family with dollars of pity and dreams of hope. Ninteen years worth of sunrises and sunsets, carried was i across dreams in blue skys and painted fields only to awaken in my bed at night, in cold sweats, screaming my heart out for my angels, and finding comfort in the only one that cared enough not to fly away.

This one is about my Grandmother. She seems to be the only woman in my life that hasnt betrayed me in any way, and I love her the most for that.

That's a powerful piece Seamus. How's the band going? I had a look at your site a few weeks back and I'm very impressed. Don't ever stop writing.

I've been at a non-creative stage for a month or two now, that's why I haven't been around this part of the woods.

Thanks Driven, the band is going great. Its certainly not anywhere near a Floyd sound, but it has adrenaline. Thanks for checking out the site too. I've got a million more poems on the way so stay tuned.

Not going anywhere.

AND SO THE DEAD WAGED A WAR- - - -crucified upon this cross of imperfection we hang motionless like stars in the blackest sky's for the eyes of sinners to spit a million gazes of hatred upon our mud stained suffering. let the bleeding of our minds trickle down to erode this dirt of purification and may the purest of priests crawl with their bellies upon this soil to inhale the dried remnants of our once moistened blood when discoverance of their wrongs is prevailed in the shadow of their forth-coming days. and so the dead waged a war. even the dead dare to swallow pride inside shovel-packed graves of this blackened soiled land. my hands bleed tears of long dead children who scream from the caves of disparity as i clench my fist as yet another sunset falls far behind the hills of this cursed land. and my last scream escapes in a fury of cursing and fire like the hell hath conquered my soul from the inside. my tomb lay shattered upon soured soil. may it be sketched using only words of warning to all who live in fear of fallen angels, "this flesh lies not within peace of God."