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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

The corruption offends.

The decay without end.

Fungus on a rotting log is called growth.

I wish to worship it with fire and poison.

To burn out the rot and kill its children.

 

All deck of all queens highlighted,

Provided to give the ants hope,

Who will never go beyond slave

So they will be able to cope

And provide maximum efficiency.

 

A roulette wheel,

Every one stacks it,

Like mold the fortune spreads

The log but a sacrificial Calf

A polished host.

 

The minds are in jail,

And they think they are free,

If They find the Key who will turn it,

They are all crippled.

And can't find the lock.

 

Destructive railroad derailed.

Individual beams of light shine.

Glittering in the Smut.

It won't be swept up,

Because of the weakness of compassion.

 

---

This is pretty much the same, only a little more clear I think. I hope this makes more sense.

Edited by: Nyyark at: 6/13/02 9:56:54 am

Posted

Interesting, the metaphysical dilemnas a little yard cleaning can summon.

~Zool~

 

Ancient, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.

 

Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards.

 

Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know.

Posted

Although I believe the subject is clouded from me, the feeling I get is one similar to a combination of 1984 and the belief that the more we enable, the less we accomplish. Interesting imagery and the subtle rhyme scheme is captivating.

Posted

aw, dang man, please tell me you saved the orginal... lately i've taken up the policey of not overwriting an orignal without saving it for future reference. I do this for clarity on the theme i was trying to get at... Plus it leaves the track to the orginal inspiration open and readily availble to take back up.

 

I find, i tend to muddle things if i do other wise...

 

Your new poem, is a nice with its ranting style against well "the system" ... Rage a lot of us have felt, thus easily to relate and tap into... I liked your other poem too... just wasn't sure about what you were saying about love. Whether or not it was compasionate for love to spare people of itself, i guess depends on your outlook on love. Sure it's a real complicated thing that turns you totally inside out and what not... But i would think the toil worth it... though unrequieted love may, be something the personified love could seek to spare us of... Um, okay i'm rambling... but i wonder if love was really the what was being felt in the first place...

 

revery

the dreamlost...

Posted

Tiredness was the father of both my poems, and unfortunately the slayer of the first.

 

To try and clarify, It wasn't unrequited love that stayed the hand of destruction. Actually, I was really upset, and wishing I could destroy the system, but I realized that with the Internet, I don't know enough about my friends to ever look into mass destruction. I see everyone here I like and don't know anything real about, and I wonder how many I like and don't know.

 

I found the situation ironic, mainly because the solution to save the humanity that is loved was to destroy it. But the narrator of the poem couldn't bring itself to destroy what it loved.

 

I hope my insight into me helps. =)

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