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Perfection manifest, long-drawn soul - sublime, divine, uneven whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
Page:
Well, it is quite hard not to seem like some whining atheist cockwasher. And note the absence of 'I' etc to (try to) play down the arrogance.
And yes, if there's one thing I general don't like about my stuff - it's that I tend to overdo things a little.
Cheers for the proper criticism Cyc, I appriciate it.
And yes, if there's one thing I general don't like about my stuff - it's that I tend to overdo things a little.
Cheers for the proper criticism Cyc, I appriciate it.
Nice rhymation. And imagery - at the start I got the sense of someting very clear to you that you were trying to convey. I have similar images/thoughts in my head, notions.......of sublimity, of perfection (in my case anyway) etc.
As for the language, twas good, but (this is always a personal gripe of mine), I felt it twas a little over done in places. I realise it's much more of an abstract than a plot driven story, as Grix mentioned, and as such is (obviously) more obtuse...but at times it grates a little.
But, very nicely done, I like it to an extent, but there's only so far I can like it, simply because what (I think) you're trying to convey is so damn hard, and there's no shame in that.
As for the language, twas good, but (this is always a personal gripe of mine), I felt it twas a little over done in places. I realise it's much more of an abstract than a plot driven story, as Grix mentioned, and as such is (obviously) more obtuse...but at times it grates a little.
But, very nicely done, I like it to an extent, but there's only so far I can like it, simply because what (I think) you're trying to convey is so damn hard, and there's no shame in that.
Well written FFF, this certainly won't harm your Notable chances- A very good story.
Yes it would be a good idea if we could vote....
Yes it would be a good idea if we could vote....
Reminds me of Dr Seuss meets Evangelion meets some mad priest.
I like it.
I like it.
*blushes*
Why thankee.
I must admit, it was bloody hard work.
Why thankee.
I must admit, it was bloody hard work.
We should vote, in some way. I smell a new SSC Site feature coming on.
*smells*
As for the actual piece, I very much liked it. The excruciatingly deep vocabulary and beautifully poetic sentences used were, as always, brilliant, and are a common trait for your pieces.
So masked with style I often had to retrace.
*smells*
As for the actual piece, I very much liked it. The excruciatingly deep vocabulary and beautifully poetic sentences used were, as always, brilliant, and are a common trait for your pieces.
So masked with style I often had to retrace.
Must admit, that's excellently written. I'm really more of a plot/tale/story person though, so this won't get my vote, but you've got a wonderful mastery of words that I wouldn't even dare challenge.
Hang on, we don't vote anyway. Damn.
Hang on, we don't vote anyway. Damn.
Perfection manifest, long-drawn soul - sublime, divine, uneven whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
Page: