Perfect funeral music. (Poem)

Another poem inspired by happenings in the outside world.

The eerie yet beatiful sound of the piano spread slowly throughout the air
Like a magnificent fish slowly swimming through clear water
The sounds sparkling in ears like tiny rainbows created by a waterfall in the sun
The eerie melody conjuring a moment of magnificent sadness in the listeners
Reminding them of what was gone and at the same time the magnificence that might await.

Continuing further the waves of sound refused to disappear until everyone were enlightened.
The moment was to be spent in happiness and sadness to best present the manner of human life.
Waves of sound enhancing the concentration until the moment seemed to linger.
As if a last demonstration of the true stubborn nature of the deceased.

Poem – Dreaming

Mankind’s very own evil
May continue to seem surreal
Through the night or through the day
It’s all a bunch of crap some might say
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

However truth is rarely told
By the masses of humans who think they are bold
Continuing throughout our lives
The evil of mankind thrives.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Growing growing everlasting
Evil’s hold on the world casting
The world itself into shadow’s hold
The darkest of stories that remain untold.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Yet in humans hope still resides
In silence those people the evil abides
But one day the truth will come forth
In the east, west, the south and the north
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Time

Everlasting, endless, forever.
The time you wish for comes never.
The wish for happiness soon forgotten.
Time continues till bodies turn rotten.

The grains of sand in the hourglass.
The rolex watch as a token of class.
Mankind’s shallowness continues to surprise.
Out of it the darkness of evil may rise.

The happy endings in fariy tails.
The actors bathing in countless fan mails.
Tools for altering ones emotions.
Are known to cause quite the commotions.

Time inadvertedly changes them back.
The altered emotions that got lost from their track.
Ultimately children of the soil we are.
Rarely do we stray from it too far.

Time ensures the return of us all.
Plants and animals alike get the call.
Time defeats it all in the end.
Wishes, dreams and emotions, my friend.

Personal favorite poem.

So this is my personal favorite among all the poems I have written. I wrote this back when I was 15, and edited it today. The reason I posted about it again is just because I want more people to read it, that’s all there is to it.

Ramblings of an old man.

The old man lay upon the floor,
The young man stood at the door.
My son, The old man said,
The young man looked at him in dread.

I’m dying my friend, but I’ll be born again,
And I even though I might be insane,
A few lines I will speak nonetheless,
About the whole of this mess.

For those who may be bound,
I leave this wicked ground.
For those who fear in dread,
the terrors of the dead,
Its all a simple lie,
That it is bad to die.

For those who are left behind,
See the world as kind,
For those who left you will,
Live beyond here still.

Their thoughts will still be born, And useful things be bred.
Even though, they’re not in flesh, Ideas can still be spread.

For those who live here still,
Stay true in heart and will,
And face the hardest life,
With honesty or knife.

For the afterlife is the same.
And the violence there will still maim.
Whether you die in peace or in pain.
Whether you die sane or insane.

Poem – boredom.

Hmm finally managed to think up something to write a poem about, the writing itself always comes rather easily to me, after the first line that is, but finding something to write a poem about is a pain.

Boredom

Boredom is a state of mind, an opinionated feeling
Nothing, rarely, dislike
To concentration it’s a spike
Boredom grows with time
Like a slowly doubling dime
Increasing restlessness sends your thoughts reeling.

Slowly it builds up like a pond, slowly ever slow
Anxiety, restlessness, impatience
Side effects, in a sense
The inner chemicals in a brawl
The amounts rising barely at a crawl
The inner winds of chaos slowly start to blow.

Escaping is fairly easy, something interesting to do
Writing, watching, playing
Entertainment rather swaying
The inner winds are calming down
In a sea of entertainment they drown
Boredom, anxiety and restlessness gone until born anew.

Starting over + Poem (Death is an Emotion)

It’s not so much that I’ve been busy as that I’ve been unmotivated and uninpsired for a long time. Finally, I feel like writing again, already I feel that tingling feeling in my stomach when something is exciting me, somehow the calm of writing seems to fit my mind and body well, I guess this is why I started a blog in the first place, well the first one was kind of a project to see how well it would go to convince people that I was an adult that knew much about marketing, and somehow some of my articles received praise and got added into article directories or other article sites, (this was at the age of 13 the year i turned 14) I even acheived a certain skill at designing a kind of website called a “splash page” basically used to get people to sign up to your newsletter(acheiving over 30 subscribers in a day once) but when I realized I had to wait over 4 years for it to actually earn me any money, my interest slowly faded away, and some time after that I decided to start a less formal blog, somewhere I could just write about anything, I remember I even had a post about blog marketing early on with small success, I must say that I believe having a blog has helped me uphold the “should have an A but too lazy” status in English, and I don’t think I have ever gotten a grade worse than C on anything no matter how little effort I put into it in English. As I am writing this I take a deep breath and pull my fingers through my hair, somehow this relaxes me when I get an overwhelming urge to move. Later I will visit a few blogsurfing site to see how the blogging world has gone without me, hopefully it will have changed for the better. I hope that this time I will be able to go on without as many pauses as before, hopefully I will manage to get a few comments as well, which is without a doubt my goal with this blog. I was never any good at ending posts, maybe poems, so I thought I’d put in the one and only poem I wrote during my blogging break.

Death is an emotion.

Death, when all that is left is emptiness, like the silence before a storm.

When you feel nothing therefore the only proof of your existence is your own awareness.

Death, the contradiction is clear yet not, alive yet dead dead yet alive.

Death, you leave all emotions behind to bathe in the devastating silence of yourself.

Death, when you deny your emotions the power to affect you, and numbness fills your whole being.

Death, when your feelings deny that you live, yet the fact that they exist proves them wrong.

Death, when all that is left is emptiness, like the silence before a storm.

Poem – The ramblings of an old man.

The old man lay upon the floor,
The young man stood at the door.
My son, The old man said,
The young man looked at him in dread.

I’m dying my friend, but I’ll be born again,
And I even though I might be insane,
A few lines I will speak nonetheless,
About the whole of this mess.

For those who may be bound,
I leave this wicked ground.
For those who fear in dread,
the terrors of the dead,
Its all a simple lie,
That it is bad to die.

For those who are left behind,
See the world as kind,
For those who left you will,
Live beyond here still.

Their thoughts will still be born, And useful things be bred.
Even though, they’re not in flesh, Ideas can still be spread.

For those who live here still,
Stay true in heart and will,
And face the hardest life,
With honesty or knife.

For the afterlife is the same.
And the violence there will still maim.
Whether you die in peace or in pain.
Whether you die sane or insane.