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BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
ALEX:
I can see through the window pane
seconds of life refracted in factory set quadrants
And no different from steel bars
Or sports bars
Or Mars Bars
And far away in the depths of my mind
The snow covered moutaintops are rooftops, I find
Certainly, certainty is trapped somewhere beyond the edge
of repeating numbers
or beneath the floorboards
BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
ANTHONY:
It's very allegorical
My words become historical
the bridge between our two worlds is made of spiderwebs
Thunder and lightning
interweave themselves between the bonding mesh
for the entertainment of the travelers between
The vacuum pulls at our sharpened heartstrings
my ears ring from the disconcerting echo of hypocrisy
And inside of me, an inferno is intruding into the space between my brain and my tounge
And through my shoulderblades run chains from which I hang
I proclaim that all is lost
and at the cost of our freedom they gained luxury
They wrap us up in swaddling cloth
and makes us sing like sluts that strut on the streets of Vegas because
BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
ALEX:
Eternal sleep, my soul to keep
Prayers, et cetera, et cetera
But the old man never wakes
Much like a wake
at a dance dreaming funeral
Conciousness creeping ever so slowly
until the luminescent life freezes with the brooke
and the incandescent ambience moves close and lookes
and like distractions or amnesia
rolled up and inhaled
a wash in parasthesia
a permenant euphoria
That always seems like something new
Because another turn around the Lifetree
opens up a new world that we forget
we've seen a million times before
And it's a wonder we dont get dizzy
Instead, we just get high
and fly through the crowds of eidolons past
the strings sink through the flaws in my skin
Or perhaps I've just forgotten them
And it's something new again
Therefore,
Ergo
Thus
The long, spindly fingers stretch out across the world
And all I can think about as I stare out the window...
BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
ANTHONY:
Enough with the Mother goose facade,
wittness the hand of God
Climb into the back of the hearse
and take Highway 60 down to Fort Worth
crash through the Hondas and Escalades
all your escapades are frivilous
Forgiveness? Never
Trust me, it's better
just as long as you never know the difference
Hail pounds on the Hell hounds as they surround
licking the tips of their fangs
How epic
Epileptic
deceptive and rude
your words are still crude
Im back in the ampitheatre
the lifewater's flowing
BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
ALEX:
Isn't the roar intoxicating?
Lucid dreams
are they real or an excuse?
Exit signs are big and bright
Isn't that enough?
And you've yet to notice the scenery change
From White to Black
Isn't that how the Fight goes?
We're so brazen and willing to die
That we dont notice when the truth turns to lie
But I
just wrap the cloth around my head
Dampness is comfort
Darkness is escape
Open my eyes and the moisture sinks in
And my body mass has changed again
I pick up the dirt that melts in my mouth
And skip on the stones that float further south
Down falling
Gravity is ecstacy
within evermore
and forevermore
every lore
will tell the tale
of the man who snored through the end of time
BOTH:
It's raining, it's pouring,
the old man is snoring
- by SilvertongueSagittarius |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 01/31/2010 |
- Skip
- Title: The Old Man
- Artist: SilvertongueSagittarius
- Description: This is yet another duo poem written by myself and my good friend Alex Brewer. We wrote it while he was in town for Winter Break (He's in Kentucky till this summer, than he moves back) Alex, yet again, penned some sick stuff, and Im fairly proud of my parts too. He just shredded through this one. All our best ones are done quickly, and on my back porch. The repetition of the nursery rhyme, which we actually sing, was his idea. I referenced our last two duo poems in my second verse too
- Date: 01/31/2010
- Tags: raining pouring
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