WINE AND GATES
Your Guess Is As Good As Mine
that turning thought's silk
owing judgment for wishes
upon the soul of a crying's ilk
time with a have of sincerity, is
prayers to a questionable God
saying this way and that, the tooth of the truth
in the name of panic for a friend, not
the control of succinct paces of youth
like a happy smile, of the blessing in the rain
we told the curiosity to breathe a key
the mention of gall, gaiety and the goal to gain
is your turning since, the sense to live in being...
kiss you fool
the waters are standing on edge
the luck of a constant sunlight, and its who'll
is a fang in the arm your way to rage?
like violence, we remember the song of a distant land
this oddity of furious laughs, the touch of pining skin
sighs of worth in the merit of guarding hands
we are the future's pride, the sound of ages to lend...
persuasion, the skill of liberty
is a call away, from the darting dark and its evil
but the essence and quiet breed, the tale of identity
among the words of wiser weal's
cold, with no mind to call home
the wind is a place of damnation that has the tooth to know
the here and the now, where the fury was all, and a soul to own
per the horizon, per the seclusion, per the salt to sew...
owing judgment for wishes
upon the soul of a crying's ilk
time with a have of sincerity, is
prayers to a questionable God
saying this way and that, the tooth of the truth
in the name of panic for a friend, not
the control of succinct paces of youth
like a happy smile, of the blessing in the rain
we told the curiosity to breathe a key
the mention of gall, gaiety and the goal to gain
is your turning since, the sense to live in being...
kiss you fool
the waters are standing on edge
the luck of a constant sunlight, and its who'll
is a fang in the arm your way to rage?
like violence, we remember the song of a distant land
this oddity of furious laughs, the touch of pining skin
sighs of worth in the merit of guarding hands
we are the future's pride, the sound of ages to lend...
persuasion, the skill of liberty
is a call away, from the darting dark and its evil
but the essence and quiet breed, the tale of identity
among the words of wiser weal's
cold, with no mind to call home
the wind is a place of damnation that has the tooth to know
the here and the now, where the fury was all, and a soul to own
per the horizon, per the seclusion, per the salt to sew...
Comment On This Poem ---
Your Guess Is As Good As Mine
Your Guess Is As Good As Mine
