Indelible.

    i'll never give up writing... but it's poetry.... it's the poetry i miss. the poetry that touches and that caresses that leaves an indellible mark on someone's soul. other than my own.
    the words that linger and ebb and flow, trailing into the darkness, into the soul and movving forward, tempting the mind onward and forward and telling the mind to step forth and conquer new territories without leaving a scar..
    transience and transferrence, touching here and stabbing there, leaving a mark over yonder like a sycophantskiss. the world we thought we may have seen is nothing but the nightmare of our own passive behaviour. can you tell a secret? can you tell a truth? can you taste a lie from the decayed lips of the dead? flickering and festering and floating away on the breeze like the crumbling ash of a dying rose, whose thorns will puncture your thimbles and drive you insane. locked away with armed guards and sadists waiting to take a stab at you. with their hypodermics filled with antifreeze green poison to cloud your veins and destroy your mind.
    the words that flow do not make me crazy, do not drive me insane, though it may be a short trip. they do not drive me to bleed and beg and whimper and simper and prey to gOD for a saviour. they do not cast me down a deep, dark well. they do not create an echo in my mind where i cannot hear myself think. these words, the words we use - our only means of communication, they are not the details of our ending. they are not the last great hope of survival to hold onto and linger on the edge of this cliff. they are our way to express ourselves and while they may get lost in translation, these words - these definitions - are all that we have and you cannot touch them with your editors pen. you cannot touch them with your FCCBigBrother. these words are all we have that are safe and pure and innocent. these words without reality, their abstract construct weaving inside and out of the world we know. they may be all we have, but they are nothing at all, and they can take everything away and make it a hundred thousand times worse. these words are the saviour. we need no god. no jesus. no mohammed. no buddha. no mary. no holy spirit. we do not need kali or siva or anyone else to save us. to destroy us. to carry us on their backs past the shadows to the great unknown. we do not need them to tell us lies to take us through the pearly gates in heaven. these words are the end of everything., the beginning of everything. these words that we find to flow at times so effortlessly. and others they come through thick as mud, but these words. no matter how deluded deluted they will always come. disjointed and broken. beautiful and flowing. they will always be there, and when the time is nigh, when they are needed, they will always be there without question and you cannot touch god with those letters because you will be soaring far above the pearly gates with the big white beards. you will be soaring on the wings of a raven carrying you so high that you could see the end of the universe coming back 'round again.   

Reviews

[wizthom]

now this is poetry at it's best ,u are in control of the words ,u are the god that gives life to words,you are the master of others emotions,you are the ticket to creativity,peace wizthom loved it