Now since the ink is dry let me begin to read:
I lifted you up and crushed you faced down in this world. Ripped out the parts of your home that does not matter. I have given you chances to shine but your own selfish greed got in the way. I have devoured your words but they run out the sides of my mouth as if it was to much for me to take. Is this lies you tell? Lies that can't even slip past me cause you have made yourself nothing in this world. An you shall remain as nothing to me. An you shall grow as nothing. You have locked yourself into the world so you are beneath the shoes and feet of others. When you confess things out of the mouth and say it's from the Heart but, really its from the belly of the world you have marked someone and therefore you shall receive what you gave out. But not only just what was given, but much more. An at that moment when you are tied to your chains I will "smile" and be quite satisfied and remember you and the words you confessed.
Goldie
 700
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
Ink
CATEGORY
just different
You must be registered to leave a comment. Registration is FREE.
COMMENTS
No comments. Be the first to enter a comment.
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Goldie
ListenTo many times I have failed to understand. What possibly could be wrong? Is it me who has drawn upon my mirror and do not see an image anymore? I don't see the evidence that remains. Why is this so? Questions I ask cause no one but me can answer them. Why do we ask things that only we can answer? Maybe I'am behind the time. Time that I set but could not accomplish. It's like a great author that couldn't complete the work of his own. This is a book that could not possibly be completed. Only time can tell. All I want is a sip of your time. Is that to much to ask for. My wine is not as it use to be, it has turned into a rich lathering taste. A taste that can only ripen a fruit that has gone bad. Now I must change the act that developed in the mind only an act that caused the mother to cry and the lame to walk. I failed to listen to myself.  |
Ink Now since the ink is dry let me begin to read: |
YoungI would like to take time out to define young... From the moment the eyes introduced themselves to the world a new image was born. I reflect upon the world but yet I have went "ghost" to the ones that see the world as a precious object. We rain down our terror upon the ground we walk on like confetti. Since we all throw stones instead of pounds of kindness the world is misunderstood and there-for it is still an infant. Because of this we are still children and have yet reached our full potential. We are what we make and show to one another. But if we are all infants what can we really show? |