Framed Fame

It was nothing but a juvenile dream,
Its concept was merely lost in those fake days.
Crashing the entire soul and its self-esteem.
Still, passion of the immortal art held eternal grace
While the white smoke cleansed the signing air;
All polluted with fine roses and unaging desires.
My foes and allies amused themselves with one last affair
In which they twirled and perned their hopes in the gyres.

I smoked and burned the final cigarettes of time
To write the early words of my rapture.
Transformed them to my throes, while still hit the chime.
I was mistaken when my dreams I desired to capture,
And bottle them all in my fantasy childish land.
All I wished and desired for with my tears I cried to inspire
Those lost and delirious souls that needed to take a stand,
And finally create glittering fields for the new anticipated gyre.

March 4, 2014

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: