Ace Of Black Hearts
Echos Of Bending Light Derived Through Mechanical Looking Eyes.
Through an hourglass.
Just step away.
The blood for ink will soon dry.
New claims no different then the last.
A reflection is all the same bending of light.
No matter the image it portrays.
Illusory of a soul constantly fighting, constantly biting.
Soon too drift into the clouds of another gray blur.
Wickedness does not stir inside.
How could it exist in a nonexistence.
Shallow is this void.
A hollow hold.
A firm grip on the imagination of a fortunate few.
Go ahead try to leave this place.
Maybe you were never even here.
Sleeping when your standing up.
Exerting so much energy on a nothingness.
The important becomes so quaint.
The awakening to the possibility that all the bickering in the world can't save us.
Democracy can only be useful for that which we understand and comprehend.
Not the impossible.
Daily chaos is fine.
Daily order is fine too.
Have a little of both please do enjoy your stew.
But please remember to eat it while it's hot.
Because forever is an expedited process invented in our minds.
All self righteous and glorified.
The greatest gift is when we begin to realize sometimes reason doesn't exist outside that world in which we live.
Madness does have its place.
Even in the fairy tales we tell ourselves each and everyday.
To make it feel better.
To justify something so unimportant in the larger scheme of things.
Show me the architect and I'll show you something that anyone could have built.
A playground, a test run, just maybe.
Tell me what this artificial intelligence did do.
Down the scope, through binoculars.
Tell me have you seen something so out of sight.
Angels visit me every night.
Wings absent of all colors.
Halos of golden fire.
Absent of all facial features.
Just the paleness of empty face that would scare the hell out of most anyone.
Intrigued, I hold my hand out to them only to wake up.
And some people would be like what does that mean?
Well it could be just a dream.
Or maybe while I sleeping I left this world temporarily.
Maybe it was foreign message.
Maybe it is a sign I'm going in the wrong direction.
Or just maybe it is my mind playing tricks on me.
Sometimes it better to not try to understand what you can never.
First fact of this life is limitation.
Second is don't waste so much time of fruitless soul searching aggravation.
You don't need an excuse for your actions, or your satisfaction.
Just do what feels right.
Maybe being happy is just the way it suppose to be, maybe it not.
Here's a very uncomfortable cot.
Just sleep on it and think about that an awful a lot.
The substance of a metaphysical being.
A ghosts whisper upon a chilly night.
And I'm just so excited to get on with it.
How about you?
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Comments about this poem (Echos Of Bending Light Derived Through Mechanical Looking Eyes. by Ace Of Black Hearts )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost