The Dreamer
Stand on the precipice of destiny. Stand before, and let ye be judged.
Let them judge your merits. Your self-deprecations.
The pitiless soles of countless wishful dream state steps.
Each crying to be born, yet silently fading with each grain of time's eternal sand.
Who are they to judge? Who are they to poke and prod inside your heart?
What are they but mere skin? Mere flesh dangling on the same bone.
The same muscle tissue born and reborn generation after sad generation.
Refuse to merely stand before them. Refuse to accept their yarns.
Their tales of "woe is me's" and life's bargaining sales.
Outlets of souls gone b
Look at you standing there with some kind of misplaced pride of all things.
You're phony. Weak. That pathetic form oozing worthlessness.
What an utter waste of existence.
Each dream wasted, misused, never even bothered.
Even the oxygen you breath detests you.
You put yourself on this pedestal.
Of what? Pride? Some kind of deserving right?
A surprising arrogance for someone so cringe worthy. Someone so lacking of any calibur.
What good are you? What purpose could you serve, but to give meaning to the word: detriment.
Can't you do anything right, that's not a question since we know the answer already don't we?
You drove every
Elegance Floating
Desire made corporal by thought and sound.
Resonating temptation by no fault of your own.
Spin your web. Sing your song.
Breaking hearts like no one else can.
It's not your fault. It's DNA, the cosmic play.
Where life's road map splits, turns, crossroads.
We all stand some where in the middle of it's emptiness and content.
Hanging on to dear life when even a simple breeze can plummet us away
from the abyss of appreciation.
Who can judge when judgment is relative?
Who can capture a moment when time stands still for no one?
Blame is a game that we play when fate turns it's happiness away.
I choose no longer to p
Mr. Frown
Left out. Knocked down. Broken and unwound.
Life stole his crown before putting him down.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He had it coming all the way down.
His love stolen and passed around.
His happiness rejected without sound.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He changed. He turned from what he was named.
His chance missed with just a glance.
Ignoring the inside he judged only the outside.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He deserves all the sadness.
He chose all this madness.
His pain will remain as long as he refrains.
Being around, only brings her down.
But, despite all of this, he'll never back down.
Don't feel
Pieces
Broken and in pieces.
What once stood tall with shine
now lays broken and chaotically serene.
What caused its tumbling?
Was accident to blame, or something
more subconscious? Perhaps
a simple mistake ultimately resulting
in irrefutable damage.
Can it be mended?
Would it ever be the same?
An ego put in check. A pride that never
should have been.
Broken and in pieces. What once
stood tall was always destined to crumble
in the fall.
--by Me(JL).
Melancholy's Journey by Stick-Figure-God, literature
Literature
Melancholy's Journey
Melancholy's Journey
Timeless.
Perhaps arrogance.
When all is said and done
our time is short and restrained.
Our loves lost, our fortunes never gained.
Dreams of fools forgotten.
Fear not dear Traveler.
The path laid out bold and true.
It's meaning wide and encumbering.
Pain real and haunting. Tread with
caution my dear Traveler, but run
with fervor for the ruin of the heart
lies all around.
--by Me(JL)
The Dreamer
Stand on the precipice of destiny. Stand before, and let ye be judged.
Let them judge your merits. Your self-deprecations.
The pitiless soles of countless wishful dream state steps.
Each crying to be born, yet silently fading with each grain of time's eternal sand.
Who are they to judge? Who are they to poke and prod inside your heart?
What are they but mere skin? Mere flesh dangling on the same bone.
The same muscle tissue born and reborn generation after sad generation.
Refuse to merely stand before them. Refuse to accept their yarns.
Their tales of "woe is me's" and life's bargaining sales.
Outlets of souls gone b
Look at you standing there with some kind of misplaced pride of all things.
You're phony. Weak. That pathetic form oozing worthlessness.
What an utter waste of existence.
Each dream wasted, misused, never even bothered.
Even the oxygen you breath detests you.
You put yourself on this pedestal.
Of what? Pride? Some kind of deserving right?
A surprising arrogance for someone so cringe worthy. Someone so lacking of any calibur.
What good are you? What purpose could you serve, but to give meaning to the word: detriment.
Can't you do anything right, that's not a question since we know the answer already don't we?
You drove every
Elegance Floating
Desire made corporal by thought and sound.
Resonating temptation by no fault of your own.
Spin your web. Sing your song.
Breaking hearts like no one else can.
It's not your fault. It's DNA, the cosmic play.
Where life's road map splits, turns, crossroads.
We all stand some where in the middle of it's emptiness and content.
Hanging on to dear life when even a simple breeze can plummet us away
from the abyss of appreciation.
Who can judge when judgment is relative?
Who can capture a moment when time stands still for no one?
Blame is a game that we play when fate turns it's happiness away.
I choose no longer to p
Mr. Frown
Left out. Knocked down. Broken and unwound.
Life stole his crown before putting him down.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He had it coming all the way down.
His love stolen and passed around.
His happiness rejected without sound.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He changed. He turned from what he was named.
His chance missed with just a glance.
Ignoring the inside he judged only the outside.
Don't feel sorry for Mr. Frown.
He deserves all the sadness.
He chose all this madness.
His pain will remain as long as he refrains.
Being around, only brings her down.
But, despite all of this, he'll never back down.
Don't feel
Pieces
Broken and in pieces.
What once stood tall with shine
now lays broken and chaotically serene.
What caused its tumbling?
Was accident to blame, or something
more subconscious? Perhaps
a simple mistake ultimately resulting
in irrefutable damage.
Can it be mended?
Would it ever be the same?
An ego put in check. A pride that never
should have been.
Broken and in pieces. What once
stood tall was always destined to crumble
in the fall.
--by Me(JL).
Melancholy's Journey by Stick-Figure-God, literature
Literature
Melancholy's Journey
Melancholy's Journey
Timeless.
Perhaps arrogance.
When all is said and done
our time is short and restrained.
Our loves lost, our fortunes never gained.
Dreams of fools forgotten.
Fear not dear Traveler.
The path laid out bold and true.
It's meaning wide and encumbering.
Pain real and haunting. Tread with
caution my dear Traveler, but run
with fervor for the ruin of the heart
lies all around.
--by Me(JL)