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Old December 23rd, 2005, 08:31 AM
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Flygon_Zero
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Join Date: Nov 2004
Location: Canada =3 The Lost Planet.
Age: 24
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Well, I've been posting them at another poem, and the one person who reads em, tends to like em, so I figured I'd post all the ones I've posted there here.
Just to see what PC thinks =3

Times:
There are times when things get so bad,
my head starts aching, my eyes start to burn,
when all I want to do is scream,
and hide from the world.

There are times when things are so good,
when my head starts to feel light, and my eyes shine bright,
when all I want to do is feel you next to me,
and be alone with you.

There are times when things get so crazy,
my head explodes from all the noise, my eyes shut tight,
and I feel like hitting something as hard as I can,
and let the pain take me away.

There were times when things got good and crazy,
when you and I were glad, then mad,
when we both did something we knew we'd regret,
but I took it one step further...

There are times now when I sit alone at night,
the screams for freedom of those around me riniging,
when I stare and wonder why my hands are soaked in blood,
when I sit and wonder why you're blood had to be spilled

There are times now when things get so hectic,
when I begin to wonder how it should have been me,
how you should have taken one step more,
and how my blood should be spilled..

There was once a time, when I would sit alone at night and wonder,
screams for freedom and screams of joy around me,
but now those times are gone,
nothing but a forgotten memory, a missing page,
because now...because now....

Now I lay alone for all of time,
my wooden chamber my only friend,
far beneath the world I once knew,
the world where I would once,
sit and wonder, stare at my blood soaked hands.

What Dreams are made of:

The skies glow red as the fires burning violently below,
as the air is filled with an unmistakeable stench,
a stench of rotting and decaying flesh.

Ears ringing with the screams of young children,
as the shockwaves come closer,
slowly, oh so slowly, eating away at them,
A final tear they cry, as they fanish and fade,
to be seen by another's eye nevermore.

With each second,
the piles grow higher, the smell grows stronger, and the people grow weaker
Not only warfare plagues them,
not merely tanks or guns,
bombs or explosives or shockwaves,
but a new virus from within,
a new way to die.

The writhing and agonizing screams,
as an arm or a leg begins to rot and fall,
how time flies as you await the scythe,
death comes on swift wings to those unaware,
but those who seek the eternal sleep,
must keep screaming until their time has come.

More shots fired and bombs set off,
every second, every minute, every hour in pain,
Death is only the beginning they say,
and in a world of pain and bloodshed,
Death is but a dream,
a faraway dream within a dream.

Fields of Gold:
Sometimes I dream of a field,
golden as the rays of light gently make their way across
where the children run and play
as free as they can be,
laughing and smiling the sun away,
staring at the stars as the moon wakes,
and softly telling each other how much they love one another,

Sometimes I dream of that very field,
but this time a different light inhabits it,
a shaded light of grey and black,
the plants that once were so vibrant and alive,
are now grey and withering,
The children smile no longer,
no, now they only stare, blank expressions and
empty hearts and souls,
They stand their motionless, a field, no a sea, of children
barely even moving one tiny bit,
and as the transition from day to night occurs,
not a visible change can be seen,
the shadows that are remain the same,
and the blank expressions grow,
if at all possible, blanker still.

Then there are times, when I see this same field,
covered in the blood of the young,
I see a shaded figure, standing over each of the bodies,
laughing a chilling laugh,
the kind that sends shivers up spines,
and stands the hairs on the back of necks,
and as the sun sets, and the moon wakes,
a beam of light shines on the face,
slowly igniting each feature ,
and in what feels like hours, the face of the killer,
the face of the person who ruined my field,
the face of evil that destroyed the happy children,
is revealed...and I am not shocked,
when I happen to see,
the face of the villain,
the face of pure evil...is me.

Blind Prophet:
The stars up in the sky shine so bright,
the light though dimmed still blinds,
down below the prophet sighs,
he's read the signs and fortold,
the coming of an event so cold..

The townspeople all thought,
what must this old man plot,
to scare us all he'd have to want,
but one thing he could not have,
but even then, he would not have to,
resort to something so dire and unwise..

The blind old prophet who read the stars,
who fortold the event that got him banished,
stood on his hill, the farthest one from the town,
Here he watched through his shadows,
as much as he could through the darkness...

The stars that shine so bright,
that blind with an ominous light,
fall from the sky feeling oh so high,
and crush those disbeliveing eyes,
that shouted treason, shouted lies...
with a twist of the cruelest fate,
the blind old prophet also dies,
from the shining stars he prophesized..

In a new world, up high in the sky,
the blind old prophet laughs,
as his throne shines so bright,
his townspeople are now blind,
and they too laugh,
as a new prophecy is foretold,
a young new prophet staring up at the stars..

The lessons of the past already forgotten,
the bruises on the Earth already healed over,
and the shining stars repeating themselves,
shining so bright their light,
dimmed as it is, still blinds young new prophets,
awaiting the foretelling of a prophecy..
the telling of an even oh so cold.

I forgot what this one was called...lemme a lone XD:
In the dark and empty night,
everyone is filled with fright,
all huddle around the flickering light,
and pray with all their might...

Their prayers unheard in the enveloping dark,
an ominous breeze making its presence,
and in one swift and evil sway,
extinguished the light until the break of day.

Cold and frightened, huddled masses,
fill the town from edge to edge,
not a whisper, not a sigh,
all too scared of being first to die...

Then through the shadows with a chilling glow,
there came a ghastly spectral foe,
in one hand so bony and thin,
held so calmly a blood soaked scythe.

He slowly crept to the center of town,
and all began to bow down,
a circle of bodies seemingly dead,
to fool the evil they so dread.

IN a flash of blinding light,
the shadow of death quickly took flight,
hovering over in the search of the soul,
to be claimed so quickly and kept for time untold.

Another flash of blinding light,
and death now hovered before a boy,
so young and full of life with tearful eyes,
but by the next flash of light,
Death's Scythe had another blood line.

With the same chilling glow,
death once more disappeared,
to return the following night,
But now, Rosey fingered Eos returned the light.
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