I Sometimes Write Just For Fun
never given a title
by: Rob Paquin
Early morning, Spring time fog
Reddened sun strikes my eye
slowly I feel the day beginning
the remembrances of my yesterdays
lay their responsibilities upon me
chains I've forged through meticulous purpose
avoid them I cannot
Many facets of the everyday call to me
demanding attentions I don't have to give
Past failures pry with their myopic eyes
I walk forward with resolve to overcome my own indifference
still my idle hands find the devils playthings and dance
The sinner that I am - Unforgiven
Still I atoll; Repentant
Washed and faded faces stare mindlessly as I writhe
Pleasures and pains of an illusory desire
One of dying in a heroic fashion
To scratch from the stones of history a skewed and vicious account
A mark to be remembered
But never forever
Fleeting
Wheels of thought grind the stone of belief to sand,
and that very same sand sifts it's way through the hour glass
Fragmentary intervals of time well spent
Interlacing with the tempo of rhythmically wasted moments
Both spinning in time
To the transposable music of life's awesome fluxuations
Fluidity throughout
Dripping
Amazingly I am not overwrought at the brilliance as the fog clears
Summer brings it's heat, and I burn in the dazzling sunlight
I seek the shade of my own inner sanctum
In an unfeasible refuge from the fires of life's forge
In vanity I attempt my refusal to be cast to form
Still I become another manufactured conception
A malleable masterpiece
Imperfect by designed intention
Flawless and iniquitous
Transcendent
~The Snowdog~
© TheSnowdog - all rights reserved
by: Rob Paquin
Early morning, Spring time fog
Reddened sun strikes my eye
slowly I feel the day beginning
the remembrances of my yesterdays
lay their responsibilities upon me
chains I've forged through meticulous purpose
avoid them I cannot
Many facets of the everyday call to me
demanding attentions I don't have to give
Past failures pry with their myopic eyes
I walk forward with resolve to overcome my own indifference
still my idle hands find the devils playthings and dance
The sinner that I am - Unforgiven
Still I atoll; Repentant
Washed and faded faces stare mindlessly as I writhe
Pleasures and pains of an illusory desire
One of dying in a heroic fashion
To scratch from the stones of history a skewed and vicious account
A mark to be remembered
But never forever
Fleeting
Wheels of thought grind the stone of belief to sand,
and that very same sand sifts it's way through the hour glass
Fragmentary intervals of time well spent
Interlacing with the tempo of rhythmically wasted moments
Both spinning in time
To the transposable music of life's awesome fluxuations
Fluidity throughout
Dripping
Amazingly I am not overwrought at the brilliance as the fog clears
Summer brings it's heat, and I burn in the dazzling sunlight
I seek the shade of my own inner sanctum
In an unfeasible refuge from the fires of life's forge
In vanity I attempt my refusal to be cast to form
Still I become another manufactured conception
A malleable masterpiece
Imperfect by designed intention
Flawless and iniquitous
Transcendent
~The Snowdog~
© TheSnowdog - all rights reserved
