Poetry 4

Look Around
Psychotic intentions
Enclosed symetry
Look around
We’re all dying
We always have been
Black and white turns to grey
Artistic stitching always frays

We all search for what we need
While deep inside our hearts bleed
For something we cannot reach
Fine lines of mystery we cannot breach
We call it hope we call it ambition
While acyually we’re entering a transition

Into a world we have yet to know
Look around watch it grow
Watch it sing, watch it prance
Join the human race
Join the dance

Look around
The faces, the bodies
All telling you the story of who they are
The different voices, words
Each with a universe within themselves
Calling to your thoughts
Each a performance craving for applause
A shade of interest
Another day in the jungle
That is this busy street
The people forming a collage
That fades into one portrait
The art of modern culture

	Poetry 4
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Sea Of Happiness Submission draws us into the boundries of who we are Without the gimic Without the mask we wear every day locking us in a crowded room. Voices triggering every sensation It fades into a peaceful silence Standing naked, vulnerable to every sinful thought we possess Drawn to this madness That binds us in inquiry Feeling nothing but harmony The music begins A steady chant that envelopes our bodies, Changing to a sound that seems to cry out the wonders of our lives Crawling through our bodies Tingling our minds Memories of pain flooding out through our fingertips Gently massaging Waves of openness Caressing life A sea of happiness A feeling of lonliness Withering and dying So sweetly Closeness Becoming one The senseless pieces forming the path Forming the picture Tangled confusion slowly unravelling Pure joy, the air, the scent of life The taste of being in this moment in time Senses bursting with light Flowing into the emptiness Reviving the decaying purity What does it mean?? Does it matter?? The experience we were all born to witness Saving me from this dark pathway to nowhere The thought of shouting to the clouds and stars That their empty existance is there for a reason That everything is alive and is threaded and wound Inside every vein that pulses within Everything falling into perfect sync...
		Look Around Psychotic intentions Enclosed symetry Look around We’re all dying We always have been Black and white turns to grey Artistic stitching always frays We all search for what we need While deep inside our hearts bleed For something we cannot reach Fine lines of mystery we cannot breach We call it hope we call it ambition While acyually we’re entering a transition Into a world we have yet to know Look around watch it grow Watch it sing, watch it prance Join the human race Join the dance Look around The faces, the bodies All telling you the story of who they are The different voices, words Each with a universe within themselves Calling to your thoughts Each a performance craving for applause A shade of interest Another day in the jungle That is this busy street The people forming a collage That fades into one portrait The art of modern culture
Chaos In Writing My God lies within these four corners Incased in glass behind this curtain I beg to be freed from this confinement Sceaming for help! Frantically searching for the key To lock away the fears of doom and death Constant turmoil Another piece of the puzzle Which has yet to be placed Numbing of the senses Chaos in writing The curtain opens Subconscience trickery The wool is pulled over our eyes Once again we’re left questioning our existence Reality Four corners molded into one The final piece The final act in this tragedy Suddenly the writing stops... a rustling fading into the distance