...I find Poetry to be a good way of mixing feelings into words and just flowing them out to see what forms...sometimes nothing - sometimes
everything...
...feel free to add your own too...
S.O.D - Soul On Delivery
Slowly but surely I'm becoming awake,
Seeing and accepting my path,
Conscious of steps ahead I must take,
Fulfilling a debt from pain past.
Atonement postponement of self-satisfaction,
My life not to be lived for me,
My life is for others my wants are distraction,
Through servitude I find I am freed.
The life of a Gaurdian of ungodly man,
Not chosen but passed on through blood,
Weighty weapons wielded with spiritual hands,
Not for flag does he fight but for God.
Turned from His sight in previous life,
From His grace did he find himself fall,
Payment of penance in struggle and strife,
Once paid he will hear His return call.
Till then onward moving show each soul not alone,
One work, one smile, one sigh,
But the soul sought to hold once again is his own,
If only briefly before body dies.
CAGED
Ever stood on a cliff and wondered "What if"
If I jumped will I fall, will I float, will I drift.
Ever looked at the sun and thought that one day,
Will I look up again and see it taken away.
Ever watched the waves, heard them beckoning you,
Like you're drawn there to drown in their blanket of blue.
Ever listened to your heart as each beat fills your ears,
Thought how many beats left, just how many years.
Ever been driving a car as you approached a sharp bend,
And thought "Let the wheel go, lets see where this ends"
It's amazing how often we live without living,
How often we receive without thinking about giving.
Or maybe its just sadness or madness instead,
That keeps so many a caged prisoner in head.
And how often have you yearned to be free,
Yet failed to notice you were holding your own key.
SOUP OF THE DAY
Here we all sit in a grand Stewing Pot,
Its far from perfect but its all we've got.
Some people want to start a revolt,
Because they feel this stew needs a little more salt.
Some just sit there and talk to the carrots,
Some only choose to talk to the cabbage.
A group over there thinks the peas are their God,
Others worship the parsley and corriander instead.
Theres a group who proclaim they shall never believe,
In any deity for as long as they breathe.
There are those who refuse to sit next to the meat,
Or the potatoes, or pumpkin, or the silverbeet.
They would prefer that everyone else,
Who isn't like them just got the heck out.
The waters grow deeper as more people climb in,
And more tears are cried...or is that the onion.
Someone just reached over and turned up the gas,
The heat starts to rise and we're bubbling fast.
Some cannot cope and so start to drown,
Some save the drowning while others hold them down.
A fight breaks out and vegetables are drawn,
All brandishing broccoli they battle till dawn.
Many are slain and merely stirred into the stew,
Their bodies add flavour like some beef-stock cube.
Then along comes the cook while no-one is looking,
Peeks in the pot to check on his cooking.
He takes a quick taste and screws up his face,
"This stew has gone bad" Throws it out "What a waste"
*yes, I'm aware the title says 'Soup', but the poem is about 'Stew', meh, quit being pedantic - Stew Of The Day just sounds silly lol*
...got plenty more laying around...what? Why are you running? They weren't THAT bad...hello?... ummm, hello??
Peace,
ALIEN
[Edited on 9-11-2003 by alien]