Yada yada, look what I shat out.

Yet I was left unscathed-
still shoeprints squander along squalid passages with the dignity of a God.
Lost on the souls left behind in the shade,
lost in the contingent seconds after dark (frayed yet plaid into the fabric of time)
each prevailed like a breath in the mist, an utterance so displayed
as proof enough of their existance, ever should they be heard
or belied by scent trails; their spoors skulk, yielded in the cover of their maiden wings
and they stutter not a word. (I cried, I called to the heavens)
Hide or be hidden were the words that I spat.
As parades of soiled feet lay prints over the faces of the damned like baptism veils,
complete with stained hands reaching out, competing for the foreheads of the worthy;
(to mark them with a cross) coming ready or not,
from within their sheltered pyre-eyes, (an attempt to distinguish between a glint from a reticent retina and a soul defining glimpse into the blue)
destinies are determined according to the brevity of wills, (upon the strength of man)
every breath you bequeath now is not forsaken in death,
(intrinsically entwined into the pattern of your palms)
come with us, or walk your planar path till the fall, the faint falling
of feathers from the wings of scantly laden maidens descending
onto the pavement beside your sememe headstone. (to spit upon your bones and invertebrate frame)Come with us and be graven with morpheme ideals, (not silenced last words)and hopes that these amphetamine litanies pave the way to morphine eulogies;
for future dream weavers and spirits to haunt and belate this plain
on a basis as regular as rain. (I cried, and the heavens opened)
(come with us) For this is your time,
this is your maiden flight towards the surface, after so many steps in the dark,
where we'll prove a tacit feather of redemption fades
faster than faith during an inquisition of the Gods.
-Where yet again, I was left unscathed.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Last edited by The Hurt Within at Jan 22, 2007,
Quote by Snowblind 911

I agree.

Great peice of work. You have an amazing knack for wordcraft. In that I mean that you're extremely talented with choosing words and structure that fit in your mouth and roll off your tongue.

However, what I want to know is, what are you trying to tell me? What was the point of this peice? What were you feeling while you were writing it? Because I sure as hell don't know. It almost seems like your just saying a lot of things. Don't get me wrong, these things flow from beginning to end flawlessly, by why are they there?

You have a clearly aparent talent, I just like to feel or learn soemthing when I read. all I felt here was overwhelmed.
well this is unlike what I usually write, meaning wise anyway, here I am imitating Circle Takes the Square. ha I dont actually know where I'm going with this. Anyway the piece is about how we see Angels as saviours when all they do is take most people before their time. Thanks for the words man.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Cool! You write like a descendant of both Shakespeare and Poe. Your pen bears a fruit similar to a great poet's!

But, uhmm... if this is meant to be a song, I don't know, I can't make out a tune for it.
I believe there exists a melody for everything written. And there should be one in your mind too. I can sit down and play some with a few other people and the results will be different with everybody just about.

Coming to your writing, I believe I'll agree with one of the posts here that you have a beautiful vocab dictionary brewed up, and it was indeed a nice display. But as a wordslinger to another, I must say that it felt detached. I'm afraid even reading the little summary didn't helped much with the overall 'feel' of the song. The smokescreens kept 'barring' the image somehow. My only suggestion will be to retain the quality of your wording, but cut down on the lines. A bit deeper probing:

- Repetition of 'Lost' in the fourth line.

-"Secondary seconds" - That felt a mouthful.

Once it's a bit modified, I'm sure it'll sound great. Rock on.
Wanna feel divine? Light candles around a dark and abondoned room, then play your guitar.
Hehe actually it wouldn't take much, check out the band Circle Takes the Square, read the lyrics first then listen to the songs. You'll be amazed.

And thank you for you kind words.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Oh man, I loved this. I can't point out anything I'd change throughout the entirety of this. Great use of vocabulary and imagery, as usual.

My favorite bit was "Come with us and be graven with morpheme ideals, (no silenced last words)and hopes that these amphetamine litanies pave the way to morphine eulogies;
for future dream weavers and spirits to haunt and belate this plain
on a basis as regular as rain.

God, that was beautiful.
Whoa. That was just fantastic.
Could you record that one? That would be great. Just fantastic lyrics. And what kind of music are you thinking for that?
Do you have any more lyrics? I'd like to see more something from you.