wicked wood
welcome to some more old poetry. damn im lazy. but just because i didnt write this stuff yesterday doesnt mean its not still good. i mean depending of your definition of the word "good". can anyone guess what this is about?
do not plant your seeds here
the ground was poisoned long ago
and nothing seems to grow the way it should
we have come to fear the wood
the problem here is serious
the trees behave so curious
the creatures move with sly purpose
stalking in the dusk
hunting god knows what
we have felt their eyes on us
rabid hate painlust
burns the air
we are learning to beware
we are learning to move quickly
the ripping jaws come swiftly if you do not
the ground was poisoned long ago
and nothing seems to grow the way it should
we have come to fear the wood
the problem here is serious
the trees behave so curious
the creatures move with sly purpose
stalking in the dusk
hunting god knows what
we have felt their eyes on us
rabid hate painlust
burns the air
we are learning to beware
we are learning to move quickly
the ripping jaws come swiftly if you do not
take care
good stranger unaware
of your dangerous position please
we beg of you to listen
if ever your pure heart knew fear
heed, pass by, plant no seeds here
good stranger unaware
of your dangerous position please
we beg of you to listen
if ever your pure heart knew fear
heed, pass by, plant no seeds here
posted by idnami @ 6:53 AM
2 Comments:
I hear it fading.
I can't speak it
Or else You will dig my grave.
You feel them finding
Always winding.
Take My hand now
Be alive....
gypsy,
are you referring to the juxtaposition of the buttercup and the wicked wood? well thats me, my dear. the dynamics of my personality demand these contrasts. if people brought an attitude of appreciation to the things they find difficult to understand, perhaps it would become easier.
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