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(May 25th,1995)

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Tiger

Blank like a shattered psyche upon a blank man’s face
Blank like a fading vitality line on a heart monitor
Blank like a paper airplane
Blank…blank…blank…
Where hath serenity ran away to
Was it a victim of a kidnapping or did it quietly slip into an eternal sleep
The images, they have turned into black and white mute depictions of idiocy
Vibrancy has given way to a bland texture, a bland bleak world
Weeks, for weeks a search has been sent out to locate harmony
A decent idea, a great history of detail to recite and describe
Yet the teams have come up empty
Like water becomes a single droplet from a long drought
How did creativity turn into a poisonous, fiendish field of rotting vegetation?
How did such a bright world fall prey to the wonder of harsh blizzards and hailstorms?
Karma, is karma the culprit
Or have the list of misdeeds finally came first in the race
Could this be a misstep, a mistake of fate?
Or was it destiny to watch a land freeze over
The dreaded disease that turns a pencil into a projectile weapon
It has overtaken through underhanded tactics
It has won the battle, captured the general, forced a retreat
And I have fought tooth and nail to overcome it
I have sought refuge amongst stars, tigers, lyrics, a silent abyss
But still commanding as a dictator, this dreaded disease
Wishing to end, to begin the cessation of the legacy I started
So I find myself crawling headfirst through the belly of the beast
Tiger, gentle Tiger, why hath you now become so traitorous
Tiger, fierce Tiger in my right eye, you’re only burning a hole through it
Tiger, wise Tiger, you have rendered me useless
Tiger, loving Tiger, separate yourself from me
Tiger, lone Tiger, manifest into reality so I can look into your eyes
Tiger, Tiger; were your stripes not a mix of a golden orange flavored with pepper and salt
So why have they now changed into mimes
Tiger, Tiger devour my essence whole
Leave me a barren wasteland, just a shell in the dark
Separate yourself from me, find your own serenity
And leave me constructing my own symphony
Of a single droplet hesitating to fall from the air
For fear…if it falls…then the truth is real…
This is finally the end of me

Submitted: Friday, May 10, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 17, 2013


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