I was wondering how you all felt about my poem. I konw this isn't a place filled with intellectuals and english majors, but still, i wanted so see how the general public felt about my writing.
`btw, im not real good in form or punctuation, but you'll still get the base ideas ofmy poem.
(~~~)
Wise old Magi,
bringers of air,
enlighten the day's evening with mystified prevalence,
guide the birds to meals of peace,
lash out your independent arts on the chains that imprison mutiny,
and recieve the sun as pardon for the lies that the generals spat.
Peoples of deep opression now march to the cold, pretentious mountains
where the god kings live,
hand in hand,
burnt with enough anger that could forever fuel the fires of hell
They have gathered among this grimy castle to exfoliate the trees of the dark grove,
cut the vein that feeds probability and doubt.
O, those searing torches,
lighting the couldron black sky.
May no longer this corrupt shaman channel coal through the rivers to impregnate the wound of freedom with infection.
dirty water,
withered vegetation,
and rusted metals.
We've waited centuries for the fires to succumb this dead land.
All those nights of anxiety,
all those days of impatience.
We still have lightyears to trek before achieving complete nirvana.
When can the predator can find the prey?
This cold blooded beast, though, has found serenity for the masses.
Abrading iniquity from its skin, and slightly grazing heaven.
It accounted for all of its frivolous acts,
unleashing the timeless truth that had been gaurded and watched by ancient jackals,
free from mystique.
O goodness, is it not the most beautiful sight ever seen?
The perceptions are aflame...
*sigh*
Stop it all!
Lets skip back to the bountiful orange orchid,
inside the sacred valley,
where the fish in the lake's jeweled waters meet the ever so dazzling, bright morning with a small leap of joy into the cool, breezing air.
Radiantly lit pathways leading to the acres of gardens,
azure skies lined and patterned with trenching clouds
that run like wild horses all the way from the other side of day.
O what such well recieved warmth this haven brings!
It helps drain the memories of this woeful tragdedy.
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