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Now, have you seen?
The black mane of a dark horse
As it slithers and kiss the marble floor;
Now the whore petticoat, cloaks and hood
On a starry night whispers its oat
Ah! the breath i could not stand,
Me praying God in for the sin, the sin
Even tinder cries of the light strucked
From within
Is it the grief that fall flat and hollow,
Blind nor blast;
See as it sleeps with one eye open
Dusty like an aged morgue
Who would take all?
The body, the soul or the wine
That blessed all,
The doubt,
It helps not; nor render relief as
The heart halt to be judged,
The atmosphere was amazed
To be shocked as it faze about
Is own breath,
Now the sudden peace!
The gusty wind that blows
The untold truth smirks
Along with the blurry wall
That unfold all.


The burden of a conscience is the weight and loads that the conscience hold such as
lies, deceits and so on. sometimes when the conscience is filled with all these it burst and climates into a terrific demon but when all are revealed and caught out, it reduce weight and softens to carry more burden.

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over 7 years


over 7 years

You have a wonderful way of expressing your thoughts and why you think them. Also, your descriptions are quite unique and effective...I think maybe you might try a little too hard sometimes, though. Poetry is something that comes so naturally to you, don't force it... Don't reach and grasp for words or descriptions, let them come to you. Because come to you, they will... I think you know what I'm trying to say. 8^)"Dusty like an aged morgue."
Awesome verse..!

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steven ~Randomness rocks, and Poetry Rules~

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