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GIVEN IN
It gets to hard so we give in,
We are the weaker
ones within,
We never understand to climb we must fall,
Those who get up stand tall,
To easy we let go,
We give
in, cancel the show,
We hang our head in shame,
Point the finger, pass the blame,
We are the ones who always crumble,
Our
dreams left to always tumble,
One day we will try for real,
Shuffle the pack and deal,
We'll take whats given and
grow a dream,
Not give up and sail the stream,
But for now we fumble on,
5 backwards only forward 1.
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WAITS IN VEIN?
Encased within a broken tomb,
Death impending, darkening gloom,
A helpless
maiden, death her fame,
does the heroine wait in vein,
A fairy tale ending broken, burnt unspoken,
Faith and hope
in happy endings,
Lost and forgotten within subheadings,
the famous knight dressed in white,
Is no more than a myth
of sparkling light,
Dressed in black a peasant comes,
saves the day and then he runs,
The story ends a sorry tale,
The
maidens heart lost and frayle,
The moral shows us love is pain,
Should we risk it all in vein?
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UNTOLD STORY
A solemn girl sits alone,
Her arms and legs locked in stone,
A lock of hair
tumbles free,
Her eyes fixed upon a tree,
Its rotten roots a muddy brown,
Upon her head a broken crown,
Her
hair intwined beneath its bark,
Her soul a shadowed void of dark,
Her muted voice makes no sound,
A body tied
beneath the ground,
An untold story of forgotten woe,
Upon a branch a watchful crow,
A figure stands beyond her
sight,
He watches as it falls to night,
His body slumped on trodden sand,
A single ring
upon his hand,
A hole replaced his broken heart,
Cursed to watch her fall apart,
His eyes filled with shadowed regret,
Her
unspoken words, his unpaid dept,
Two lovers lost within the struggle,
Their bodies left to rot and crumble,
Two
hearts forced to live in pain,
Their souls and minds drowned insane.
POETRY CURSE
They speak of scam, a whole in my purse,
Of dishonest artists, a poetry
curse,
From ones inner vision,
Sprouts fraudful division,
From within a doubtful head,
Dream lay dormant, put
to bed,
Hundreds of dollars to a worthy cause,
Or hundreds of dollars drowned, no applause,
My rightful place upon
the stand,
Tainted so harshly by a turn of hand,
Who to believe when loved ones battle,
They take our money and heard
us like cattle,
Are dreams a simple seamless myth,
A timeless battle and a broken gift,
The pursuit of artistry broken
down,
Is it illusion or a glossy crown?
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