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Throwback of a Creative Past
DIRGES AND TEARS (A collaboration by Soul & Grace)
Torturous, this wears wet
bleeding out loss in life
be it not draining and soaking
hung out drying
watching sunrises
stead the settle, knowing
this, fills the hours
there, no holding it back
rolling thunderous black cloud
what keeps thee free being,
wracked by its wrath
Dirges and cries of sorrowing hearts
Of those that strew the petals of roses
Upon the mile that stretches far
To the garden where none astir
Where hearse move over fallen tears
What gods listen to the chanted prayers
not one who raise Lazarus
but one who writes the RIP
For dead he is and dead will be
Interred within where darkness blooms
Cried tears, a sea wouldn't raise him still
Laments lay at eternal fall
Gabelle salt tax the Dandi March
ever crossing, forming time lines
scarred singed befallen boughs
wearing this very everyday
which is the true carrion
they that become light
or the carried carcass seared
smouldering, ashen within ashes
pull the string that says
continued journey should always be
Lamentations and wailing dirges
Such display of beating chests
Ashes on hair and ripped robes
Only those left behind mourns so
The one that left is far from bereft
For there, another mystery lays
Beyond the grave, the moral sheen gone
Nothing hinders, nothing worn
Just spirits that waft through the clammy air
So bemoan not those who left,
But mourn those that’s left to moan
the passing bells' constant din
ambience within the sphere sound booth
shaken not stirred, aware awake, Your say
wearing whys' witless what isn't
to days of the burning pyre, final rest
holding aloft the torch for life, ever present
tending to needing, nary the needless
doing dare a dance upon the wicked stage
juggling acts, magic, smoke
looks within mirrors, ringmaster yells
come ye come all the greatest show of all
Written by souladareatease
Published 24th Feb 2013
Torturous, this wears wet
bleeding out loss in life
be it not draining and soaking
hung out drying
watching sunrises
stead the settle, knowing
this, fills the hours
there, no holding it back
rolling thunderous black cloud
what keeps thee free being,
wracked by its wrath
Dirges and cries of sorrowing hearts
Of those that strew the petals of roses
Upon the mile that stretches far
To the garden where none astir
Where hearse move over fallen tears
What gods listen to the chanted prayers
not one who raise Lazarus
but one who writes the RIP
For dead he is and dead will be
Interred within where darkness blooms
Cried tears, a sea wouldn't raise him still
Laments lay at eternal fall
Gabelle salt tax the Dandi March
ever crossing, forming time lines
scarred singed befallen boughs
wearing this very everyday
which is the true carrion
they that become light
or the carried carcass seared
smouldering, ashen within ashes
pull the string that says
continued journey should always be
Lamentations and wailing dirges
Such display of beating chests
Ashes on hair and ripped robes
Only those left behind mourns so
The one that left is far from bereft
For there, another mystery lays
Beyond the grave, the moral sheen gone
Nothing hinders, nothing worn
Just spirits that waft through the clammy air
So bemoan not those who left,
But mourn those that’s left to moan
the passing bells' constant din
ambience within the sphere sound booth
shaken not stirred, aware awake, Your say
wearing whys' witless what isn't
to days of the burning pyre, final rest
holding aloft the torch for life, ever present
tending to needing, nary the needless
doing dare a dance upon the wicked stage
juggling acts, magic, smoke
looks within mirrors, ringmaster yells
come ye come all the greatest show of all
Written by souladareatease
Published 24th Feb 2013
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