~ Grandeur Of Melancholy ~    [Author's Home Page!]
  13671   Poems Read   


[Poetry PoetryPoem] [Poetry Search] [Contact Us] [FREE Site] [Home] [Poets] [Login]


The Going Offs

Enigmatic Plague

Fragile Mermaid

The Silence Is Violent

Parachute World



Sorrow's Last Page

The Division Of Those

The Sun Knew Wise

Bethroned The Crowd

Memorial To Our Memories

The Raven Chair

Apparition Zeta-43

Armory XII

The Amber Ones

With Lips Sown Shut And Eyes Wide Open

Dragon's Scale

Availance

Snowflake Symmetry

The Unguided Destiny

Somewhere Better

Fašade

Gargamessiah

You Are Poison To The Trees

Mud Kept Slander Fields

Oh Sleeper

Opposite Reaction

Demons Don't Kill They Steal

Full Set Of Ribs

Blackness

Lost To Time

Demon Doors

Thirsty Drink

More Poetry >>

Butterflies Of The Season

Blood heritage
it goes back beyond comprehension
whatever is in a name give
it clarity to the voice of desolate
and disfigure the truth within your brain,
but you notice that what is not false.
Occupying ourselves, the very spaces
inhabit our motions and driven mentality.

Evoking spirits with
are the spirits we are the destitute
and brave. We establish the connect
we disconnect our thoughts to
all but our own meaning.

Seclusion cause leaving our life
with flaws, is dishonor to the name
you are web to and disfigure all
that which is true gives dishonor
to the impact of the false and true
are more then dossier fact they are
lives, the stories of yourself.
The breath of life you know better
then those who know you better then
yourself.

Blood goes on and on.
Giving power to thoughts
not there and reality pierces
with a stark dream of your
subconscious attitude of
puzzle pieces of pictures
you seen.

And seasons change the me
within as summer's grin sees
the conscious madness within
the summer light hits me
cerebral thought and cannot
code the spring's sonnet brought
to wrought. The blood that is
alive through generations unseen
different branches more different
then thousands of your inner genes
working sweet pleasures of
a hot fervid sun that can disfigure
before it is done your emotions flung
up on high a pedestal for you to
reach your time, and mind for the
beach, no nor of the pinball but of
the chemical of the ocean, that air
that sticks to your skin. The magnetic
reverence of all that has been.
The time of season never wanes those
last days of summer burn on the first
days of renewal.







©2000 - 2022 ------- Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

Sign Guestbook Read Guestbook

   Tell someone about this Poem.    blank

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems

Search over
400,000 poems!