Nervous neurons are stampeding
through the bliss that some call night,
My temples damp and screaming
beg me stop and make things right,
My hands they shake with poison,
my fingers war among themselves,
Each desiring their separate sins
that I work overtime to quell.
But like the billows of the ocean
against the jagged shore,
I'm somehow caught between the lens
and the thousand word report.
Yes, this epic endless energy
receives me no reward,
So I lunge into the empty air,
another line of lore,
Another line of conjured rubbish
that I might give myself some faith,
But after all when added up it's
finite verse infinite ways.
My billowing against the coast
will only find its peace,
If God, removes the Ancient host
or bids the winds to cease.
A faithful foll'wer is the bar,
that has been set for me to gain,
I can't expect on getting far,
save this muddy puddle sees some rain.
I do like this poem... I was hoping someone else would comment first so you wouldn't feel like I was your only reader, but maybe your other followers arn't the commenting sort. :-) Really, this is an awesome poem. I like poetry that is carefully pre-meditated like this.
ReplyDeleteheh, yeah i need more of commenting type, was beginning to think no one was reading my blog, almost gave up! jk ;)
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