some tell of of a god of rage,
his black inhuman heart pulsing,
seething forth into our very veins,
feeling up our very hearts with,
the darkness we hide from everyone
the demons we hide from ourselves.
but I think its like a river,
not the rivers that we know of,
but the ones deep within.
it starts gentle, cascading
down the gentle slopes of emotion,
down the subtle valleys of memory.
sadly this lasts only so long,
as your soul clashes viciously
with the harsh realities, that are this world.
love turns to hate, respect breeds contempt
trust is betrayed, vengeance is born
hope drowns, neath the murky sea of despair
a once gentle stream becomes a river of rage.
oh how it roars, into guttural cries of anguish
oh how it thunders, into tears that blind
inside you, this monster of destruction
cannot and will not be held back
by the fragile banks of reason.
Interesting. however I think your poem leaves no room for hope or forgiveness. both of which will never die from this world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your right Paul Reason, i was focused on that instance of madness and anger. a world without hope and forgiveness would be tragic