Poetic-Verses
genuinely pretending~~
~~I'm neither in the ether..
nor, am I bored by the chore
of trying to find a savior..
Crosses worn around my neck..
it'll suit me well, when I'm 6 feet thick..
And the tastes of cinnamon and something sweet..
Of memories invented, so as not to make me forget..
Of what was spoken, still I will exist..
On a fluid of time, whether you believe
Or not, the question remains, yet it's so softly
spoken, trust in me, and you won't be so sorry..
So, we lose and we wonder and wander around
like so many souls and pretend it all works itself out
in some form or another..where one punishment
and one reward, one Hell one Heaven..
And spinning past the verb, is the element
Lost in the storm, gentle hearts beat rhythmically
and the shadows cast forms of truth that cannot be denied..
No matter how many have tried, to see what faith
is, it's a promise from a friend, to abide by and by..
And do what is right, from a towering height..
To pretend, to be genuine, to close your eyes..
And fly so high, as smoke must rise to the sky..
And those who remember, to keep bell book and paper..
Candle wax and ink into the pocket of time everlasting..
None so promises the world, if one sees a landslide of emotion..
And so dizzy we become, and drift off to sleep..
and wake into a dream of crushed velvet and crimson colored
regrets, so pained are our thoughts, that, neither are we alive..
and neither are we dead..just the appropriate victim, of an age
that demands salvation~~the end
by Rick Weber
March 23, 2015
copyrights reserved 2015
0121 hours
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
nor, am I bored by the chore
of trying to find a savior..
Crosses worn around my neck..
it'll suit me well, when I'm 6 feet thick..
And the tastes of cinnamon and something sweet..
Of memories invented, so as not to make me forget..
Of what was spoken, still I will exist..
On a fluid of time, whether you believe
Or not, the question remains, yet it's so softly
spoken, trust in me, and you won't be so sorry..
So, we lose and we wonder and wander around
like so many souls and pretend it all works itself out
in some form or another..where one punishment
and one reward, one Hell one Heaven..
And spinning past the verb, is the element
Lost in the storm, gentle hearts beat rhythmically
and the shadows cast forms of truth that cannot be denied..
No matter how many have tried, to see what faith
is, it's a promise from a friend, to abide by and by..
And do what is right, from a towering height..
To pretend, to be genuine, to close your eyes..
And fly so high, as smoke must rise to the sky..
And those who remember, to keep bell book and paper..
Candle wax and ink into the pocket of time everlasting..
None so promises the world, if one sees a landslide of emotion..
And so dizzy we become, and drift off to sleep..
and wake into a dream of crushed velvet and crimson colored
regrets, so pained are our thoughts, that, neither are we alive..
and neither are we dead..just the appropriate victim, of an age
that demands salvation~~the end
by Rick Weber
March 23, 2015
copyrights reserved 2015
0121 hours
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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genuinely pretending~~
genuinely pretending~~
