Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Shakenache me!

I wouldn’t change a thing
but sometimes wish I could

The shame, the pain, the hate
the not thinking when I should

Mostly though, I would tell my youthful eyes
to let it go and DO before I die

In the end, what hurt and made me doubt
meant nothen ~cept what I did about it

Years move faster as I slow down
and that which hurt me hardly matters

What helpful thing can my mind create?
What then, can change my fate?

And so I cry before I die:

Age N Death and youthful plunder
Dark and ominous storm
Shake me, quake me, break me, from sloth and slumbers warmth
Screams of birth are but faded snores; snuffed neith murken apathy and the cold rain of years
Spare me but one bolt of burning, yearning need, to light my spark and free me!

My shout shall be a whisper to the Universe
A demand, set in verse and meant for her

So perk your ears this day, for you will not ignore me
I swear I will achieve and I will thrive, for I cannot fade to glory!