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"Interlude" by Future of Despond

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I dream of the ocean
a sea of rubidius
the most deepest red
so graced with the reflection
of the bone pale
shattered moon

I dream of a black shore
soft obsidian glass
the dark sand
traced by the ebb and flow
of the carmine beyond

This end of a dead world
just beyond
the torn skies
of tomorrow
where my tattered soul has flown

I dream also of the rain
here on an empty beach
where everything of life is devoid
a sound of thunder
punctuates
the soft pattering
occasionally

Sitting here
out in a gentle storm
red awash the darkness of my perch
is very peaceful.



All this is a dead world
a dream
it is my reality
that is not taken from me
it is my reality
that I live







Even though somewhere out there, someone is slumped over in a heap, on the shower floor. Slipped with a razor, coffee cup knocked over & grounds everywhere.



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If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others

On Friday February 25th, 2005, sIo (891) writes:
wow.....just wow....i adore this piece. i'm going to have to fav it.


On Thursday January 20th, 2005, Raven (378) writes:
Excellence, even in the weariest of hours... The first stanza reminded me of a picture (I think you sent me) of a bloody oceana... the last lines reminded me of a newspaper headline tragedy... Excellence, my friend..._Raven


On Monday October 11th, 2004, DoctorAsh (506) writes:
Damn man - you could paint the sky in words .. This a very well written discriptive write cursed with your extravagant plant dripping creativity. Excellent. [D&A]


On Sunday September 19th, 2004, knightmirror (425) writes:
damn!!!!!!!!!this one is frickin great!!!FAVES!!!!!!!!-knight


On Saturday September 11th, 2004, The Kid Of Corruption (148) writes:
good write I enjoyed reading this piece.


On Wednesday September 15th, 2004, Dayer (201) writes:
likewise, I enjoyed this very much


On Saturday September 11th, 2004, Six-Out (1824) writes:
Agreed with Zophiel. Imagery made this. The last stanza struck me like a ton of bricks...great job.


On Saturday September 11th, 2004, Zophiel (349) writes:
This was well done I thought. It seemed a slow but stead pace laced with well described imagery.


On Saturday September 11th, 2004, Future of Despond (94) writes:
It was said to me, Future, none of your poems make any damn sense. This is my attempt to amend that, though the poem is of poor quality. When I happen to shake this lonely sort of absolute weariness, standard Corsair broadcasting resumes shortly.



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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/6284/45666 on Friday September 05th, 2008 12:32 AM

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