The Silent Killer

The last of the leaves have fallen like a sickle to the head
All that once had prospered now is surely dead
There is a beauty in the process but a sadness in the end
You walk a lonely road without a soul to call your friend
Your beautiful visions from the sky are gone without a trace
All that's left is a dingy grayish hue to obstruct your perfect place
What gave you hope to carry on is somewhere far away
Beyond the eye but within your mind
The hardest place to stay.

Who's To Say?

There is a thunderous pounding in my heart that can be heard for miles around, with the echo of an ever present purpose, whispering "Love" to all the people standing by
The eternal flame that is self preservation kept alit by its 100 million backstabbed victims
Even as I speak I know you feel its flames licking the sweat and blood from your cheek waiting, waiting, ready for it's next intended meal
I watch from afar with pity from a glistening pantheon of "Us".
Every righteous man woman and child stands firm as a pillar each supporting their neighbor both in struggle and in plenty. Join "Us". When the tunnel is beaming with a billion different colors you realize it isn't necessary to search for the light.

Who's to say that fireflies are unlike the synapse of my brain, each carefully orchestrated explosion giving birth to a new and wonderful symphony of creativity and impossibility.

Who's to say that picking flowers for your mother is unlike an offering to god, the one who gave you life and who subtly reminds you everyday that they can just as easily take it away.

Who's to say that when a butterfly lands upon your skin it is unlike a gold star from your kindergarten teacher, a gift from the one who taught you the most valuable lessons in life.

Who's to say that a late night drive is unlike an antarctic expedition, destination unknown until you reach it but one that is always worth the trip.

Who's to say that laughter is unlike the Grand Canyon, growing over time as a natural wonder all its own in which we find beauty, inspiration, and the strength to continue on.

Who's to say that holding the hand of the woman you love is unlike the moment when the raging sea meets the stable shore, a moment of beauty, one that is destined to be repeated.

Who's to say that reading to a child is unlike setting foot in a homemade time machine projecting forward to a day when their affinity for the incredible may live inside us all.

Who's to say that sitting on a curb lost in thought is unlike running a marathon, watching people pass you by while also knowing there are some that will never catch up to you, the feeling of exhaustion creeps in, but you won't stop until you're finished.

If you truly wish to be extraordinary, live as if all the small things you do are impossible. Because for most people they are.

I'm Gunna Die Young

I'm gunna die young with a bullet in my back
I'm gunna die young with a bottle in my hand
I'm gunna die young buried deep in your arms
I'm gunna die young despite my obvious charm

I'm living life to the fullest going 8,000 miles per minute
Dodging in and out of alley ways but doorways never darkened
Right past the white picket fences and inboxes filled with spam
I just turn up the bass for the sound of my ex-parent humiliation

Postcards are my cannon fodder going out to all those lost connections
While Atlas serves as wingman and pushpins my future business plan
Walls pop up in front of me like weeds along the driveway but
With these hammers in my pockets I will always break on through

I'm gunna die young with a bullet in my back
I'm gunna die young with a bottle in my hand
I'm gunna die young buried deep in your arms
I'm gunna die young despite my obvious charm

Your eyes are like a bullseye I'm looking for a path that's tried and true
The torment of miscalculation is beyond my scars and IOUs
If we're to be together I'm gunna have to straighten up
Leave what I know behind me and learn to fight for what I love

The gunshot wounds of silent stares leave a pain that never heals
And the disappointed looks of family and friends have almost lost their zeal
But Your smile shines above it all like the sun behind the clouds
Giving me just enough light to see that "right now" is all that counts

I'm gunna grow old with the scars of the past
I'm gunna grow old with the faults of the present
I'm gunna grow old with the hopes of future perfection
I'm gunna grow old with You.

Sorry, I know that "I'm Gunna Die Young" is a little sketchy, however, I hope you enjoy what I have to say in the work as well as with the other two.

ZIMMER1994 wrote:The Silent Killer

The last of the leaves have fallen like a sickle to the head
All that once had prospered now is surely dead
There is a beauty in the process but a sadness in the end
You walk a lonely road without a soul to call your friend
Your beautiful visions from the sky are gone without a trace
All that's left is a dingy grayish hue to obstruct your perfect place
What gave you hope to carry on is somewhere far away
Beyond the eye but within your mind
The hardest place to stay.

I love the imagery within this poem, specifically within the first and fourth lines. This imagery can bring a whole new life to any kind of poetry. I hope you keep writing, because you have a immeasurable amount of potential within the activity.