Z-Old Release: Untitled (A Poem about Aging, etc)

Presently I'm staring at the mirror And trying to discover my cut lips How the blood flows How the showers ooze into powerfully sterile minstrelsy In which hope lies cannot be guessed Nor can anger or fear overshadow the lies We come into this world already suffering And when deceased, the world no longer wonders of us Or how long we've been traveling Or how long we'll be dead None give thought to aged (ag-ed) memories The dust on the wall, compositions in black Within without I keep wanting to sing Just a little life would greatly aid our cause No victory have we known only throttling intensity Stop, no language can express this sentiment to our life Stop, stop, stop, stop, Yet the biological will not give out And the spiritual will only laugh We watch from a distance lovers dancing on the green Some forgotten lawn now overgrown, choked with bristles and biers Memories and bleeding becomes age's constant companion When lives complete their transition from undead to dead When youth becomes no longer occupied with their own constructed narratives But instead face the immutable and forever silencing weapon There many turn to some pursuit that no one really understands That of wealth cannot fulfill And that of communication no longer holds any interested Watch the memories as they bleed out on the fallow ground of your mind No longer occupied with the present, the descent into the past has only just yet begun Here the dancing can go on forever Here romance hangs in the air and the bodies form perfect unions Sundown will not be for several hours Nor will the moon, that damnable moon, shine it's horrid light upon our faces Just a while ago, soon I shall return Soon, I shall return.Written October 31st, 2001 © on Oct 31 2001 02:17 AM PST, Michael Edward London    angst • contest • fantasy • pain • personal • sad • society • spiritual • thoughts • weird