M
Mr J
Guest
Two Halves
The physical man decides to dominate dearthy delvings,
But his inner reserve is weak.
The psychical man searches through a tempest telling,
And his own mind is in a heap.
The physical structure of the decks and streets,
And the psychological muster of the mind.
The teeth will eat the tasty meat,
But the brain will dream the time.
If the two shall ever meet,
It would surely be divine.
Rhymes intwined to commit a callous crime,
Surfing the waves of these shallow lines.
A split for them, a trip for you,
A balance cluster would surely do.
The physical structure of the cloud,
The endless sky that a dreamer doubts.
The morbid and senseless confusion,
A true divide or a helpless delusion.
An observer guides you here,
An observance guides you there,
Yet you are only left to stare,
At a star that has no hair,
At a cloud without a chair,
At a page without a care,
Or at a poem of jumbled snares.
A look to the east,
A look to the west,
A balance between them is surely the best.
A look to the left,
A look to the right,
You the chooser with the might,
You are flying a kite,
In a plight at night,
and the wind is whispering to your delight.
To get two halves of an apple you need a knife,
But eventually it will be a core after biological bites.
Look up, Look down, and look all around,
Maybe it is you, the complex clown,
Who watches a writer host a circus in town.
So turn that frown upside down,
And if that's cliche you must be unsound.
Back and forth and round we go,
What is the pattern of this psychical flow.
Is it one of wisdom or one of wain?
Of physical gain or shallow fame?
Of psychical rain without a name?
Do you choose to play this game?
Or look away in shame to stay the same?
Are you sure you know?
Or are you just tame?
I know alot of this may seem lame,
So open your mind and read it: a-gain.
I just started this and I am working on the ideas. This was literally a brainstorm. I am thinking of incorporating Brainstorm into the title.
The physical man decides to dominate dearthy delvings,
But his inner reserve is weak.
The psychical man searches through a tempest telling,
And his own mind is in a heap.
The physical structure of the decks and streets,
And the psychological muster of the mind.
The teeth will eat the tasty meat,
But the brain will dream the time.
If the two shall ever meet,
It would surely be divine.
Rhymes intwined to commit a callous crime,
Surfing the waves of these shallow lines.
A split for them, a trip for you,
A balance cluster would surely do.
The physical structure of the cloud,
The endless sky that a dreamer doubts.
The morbid and senseless confusion,
A true divide or a helpless delusion.
An observer guides you here,
An observance guides you there,
Yet you are only left to stare,
At a star that has no hair,
At a cloud without a chair,
At a page without a care,
Or at a poem of jumbled snares.
A look to the east,
A look to the west,
A balance between them is surely the best.
A look to the left,
A look to the right,
You the chooser with the might,
You are flying a kite,
In a plight at night,
and the wind is whispering to your delight.
To get two halves of an apple you need a knife,
But eventually it will be a core after biological bites.
Look up, Look down, and look all around,
Maybe it is you, the complex clown,
Who watches a writer host a circus in town.
So turn that frown upside down,
And if that's cliche you must be unsound.
Back and forth and round we go,
What is the pattern of this psychical flow.
Is it one of wisdom or one of wain?
Of physical gain or shallow fame?
Of psychical rain without a name?
Do you choose to play this game?
Or look away in shame to stay the same?
Are you sure you know?
Or are you just tame?
I know alot of this may seem lame,
So open your mind and read it: a-gain.
I just started this and I am working on the ideas. This was literally a brainstorm. I am thinking of incorporating Brainstorm into the title.