Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Hundred Meter Hurl
Two hundred tears I've cried and
Two hundred more I'll shed,
Balancing the stars upon the beams
Of the moon, I'll soon find shelter
In the shade made by the torrid sun.
My hands are icicles waiting to melt,
And waiting to be held, fingers dangling
Without reason for two hundred minutes and
Two hundred minutes more, while the night
Passes away, two breaths and a whisper
Pushing it into a periwinkle morning.
If god had a hue, it would be
Something like dark blue rimmed slightly
With two hundred shades of gold and
The worth of several lifetimes
Tinting the eyes a severe red.
Feet stomping, walking out of
Morning with nothing more than fear
And a hand full of insults, but
Nowhere to hurl them, smoke curling
From the great beyond, a heaven
Made of hell where two hundred years
You wait out your sentence and then
Two hundred years more you wait again.
When the day glows golden I pray
The sun will set and take with me
A spray of many more mornings to have,
To hold, two hundred more mornings
Sitting silently in my pocket, if
The sun were no sun, I'd wear it as
A locket and keep my memories warm within,
For two hundred millenia more and two hundred millenia more.
5-13-10
Two hundred more I'll shed,
Balancing the stars upon the beams
Of the moon, I'll soon find shelter
In the shade made by the torrid sun.
My hands are icicles waiting to melt,
And waiting to be held, fingers dangling
Without reason for two hundred minutes and
Two hundred minutes more, while the night
Passes away, two breaths and a whisper
Pushing it into a periwinkle morning.
If god had a hue, it would be
Something like dark blue rimmed slightly
With two hundred shades of gold and
The worth of several lifetimes
Tinting the eyes a severe red.
Feet stomping, walking out of
Morning with nothing more than fear
And a hand full of insults, but
Nowhere to hurl them, smoke curling
From the great beyond, a heaven
Made of hell where two hundred years
You wait out your sentence and then
Two hundred years more you wait again.
When the day glows golden I pray
The sun will set and take with me
A spray of many more mornings to have,
To hold, two hundred more mornings
Sitting silently in my pocket, if
The sun were no sun, I'd wear it as
A locket and keep my memories warm within,
For two hundred millenia more and two hundred millenia more.
5-13-10
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Hundred Meter Hurl
Hundred Meter Hurl