eyes

i stare at the sun,
that shines on the world,
i stare at the one,
with hair in beautiful curls,
i stare at the sun,
waiting for it to fall,
i stare at the one,
waiting for her to call.

i stare into your eyes,
i stare at my demise,
i look into your eyes,
i see through all your cries.

i stare into your world,
so dark i am afraid,
i look and i am hurled,
in the dark my soul is weighed.
i stare into your eyes
i look and i despise,
all your love and all your hate,
makes the true souls have to wait.

i look into her eyes,
i look and get your lies,
i look and trust your eyes,
your eyes turn to dust as your corpse dries.

those eyes that lied,
those eyes that cried,
even though i tried,
its your eyes that dried.

ok now i havent really finished this yet so it may change...a lot.

a coloured ribbon sat
on a road
defiant to the most
windy
of days
the ribbon remained.
rainy washes
refused to drain its
vibrance.
snowy squalls
denied with impotence
by its radiant luster.
so
in my travels
i pass by this ribbon,
a champion of countless
battles
and immesurable torture,
and toss it in the nearest
garbage can.

nice, how about this then, i just made this up


a world is passing me by
and why
this world is too fast for me
it seems
our world is too full of hate
for peace
our world's moving too fast
our present is past
the past becoming legend
a story well never read again
a book on a shelf in a library
thats all this world is going to be

theyre all good

thank you

and next to that book is another one,
this book is our part two,
another world that we detroyed,
so sad but yet so true,
one day they'll be brave look,
and read part one of these books,
on day we will be saved,
and they will make the last book.

this last book will end happily,
as they do in fairy tales,
this last book is no story,
there is no lies or fables,
this book is scary,
theres war and death,
this book has tales of struggle,
so sad they'll steal your breath,
but if you read you'll know something,
learn something you will,
you find that war was never the answer,
you find theres no reason to kill.

death is too final for our minds,
the end to a book that leaves us hanging,
like the thread on a shirt that unravels and unwinds,
leaves us against the wall with our heads banging,
the story with no end,
the last page has been torn out,
the mystery beyond the roads bend,
but just like the air we cant live without,
this life we live and world we see,
will vanish one day and we'll be a story,
the world we know and who we try to be,
means nothing in the end because it's all just poetry.