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Left Behind
by Mark Chapman
Ice in hand, cold fire in mind
To wake, to breathe, to walk unchained
On bitter seas
Watching the spider, rising and falling
Knitting esquisite thread of silk
Smooth on my tongue, light, delicate, pure
With the pressure of my thumb I take a life
I feel so powerful
I am a God here, with the right and the tools
To tear down the world
Pierce the ocean and my own heart
My ancestors cry out for blood
Immortal voices dwell beneath the call of the years
Their judgement is sound
It is my time
My body, the slab....
......Dust
I sit awake.... Dream of thriving worlds rife with foliage and life.....
.......Dust
Love sits at my bed, whispers comfort in my withered ear......
.......Dust
Looking down from miles above
My house, my barn, my stable.....
.........All Dust
The door crumbles in my hands
Breath freezes in my lungs
Cold inside, no feeling as I run
Swim
Climb and jump
She's dead
Everything is dead
Earth crumbles
I sit in my corner, clutching at my dust
© 2003 Mark Chapman
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In his own words: I’m a poet
not in the sense that I’m particulary skilled at poetry,
rather that I’m especially crap at everything else. Despite
this I have, over the years attempted many times to string
together what can be described less as song lyrics than poetry
that you can hum to. Enjoy, and if you can’t enjoy than
at least have a good laugh at my expense. See more at http://www.geocities.com/freddytheleper
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