Dream, interrupted

When your sleep is interrupted/
Your mental grows corrupted/
Your psyche starts to unhinged/
And you have thoughts of senseless revenge/
Especially for those who aren’t nocturnal/
Ones who don’t fall in with diurnal/
Unique beings with a broken circadian clock/
The beings who pass put, and sleep like a rock/
Never interrupt their sleep!/
Fore their wrath shall make you weep!/

Poetic Ice, a tired man.

Sickness

The cerebellum quakes
The body shakes
Heart beats quicken/
As you feel yourself sicken/
You feel like your soul was struck with a comet/
When your gut wrenches and you vomit/
One just cries out to be freed/
When their nose starts to bleed/
Why can’t symptoms like this be quick?/
Dammit I hate being sick!/

Poetic Ice

Divine Tears

Rhythmic patter of rain/
Playing a crescendo of pain/
Dihydrogen monoxide
Crushing down your pride/
Rain is power/
A crushing flood could topple any tower/
Under its weight we’re nothing but sod/
Not even capable of of understanding the power of God/
This rain is truly a symbol of fears/
Fears for our world that have brought God to tears/

Poetic ice

Lightning

Enveloped in the darkness/
One finds luminescence in the lightning/
Fearing the silence of the stilled storm/
You await the deafening cry of thunder/
A rumbling from the sky that ignites the senses/
The explosion makes expels the air from your lungs/
Breathless until the cool summer’s rain dances on your skin/
Cleansing you in the darkness of the storm/
Lightning sets the sky ablaze showing you vivid images/
A prophecy written in electricity/
Telling you to strike like lightning/
Cry out like thunder, and satisfy this dry reality like rain/
With every thunderbolt you are reborn/
We are all the children of the storm/

image

Poetic ice

Real Life

Lemons are never handed to you by life/
Life smashes them into your eye/
Life awaits your suicidal moment ans hands you the knife/
Throws gasoline on your fire before you can ask why/
Life is combative, it wants you to fight/
But it’s underhanded, and brought a gun to the fight/
Victory is an alluring mistress you rarely see/
It for damn sure is a great cost, never free/
The amount of work you put in can’t be quantified/
After repeated defeats, your soul will feel liquified/
Then life sits back and has a good laugh/
Then employs his menacing staff/
Comprised of misery, rage, and self hate/
With as hard as the work, Being self destructive is fate/
Life is an entity of darkness from the start/
How you deal with it is a matter of heart.

-Poetic Ice