Wednesday, 29 October 2014

Off to Find my People

So this is the slightly longer version of the poem/story type video I did on my Youtube....which I will link here: Off to Find my People

 Off to find my people, and on my journey go,
to find some adventure, in places I don't know.

First stop on my travels, brings a people cold and naught.
Trapped in their own heads, finding others to be caught.

Hard to realise that these phantoms with whom I spend my time
Would snarl and mock and jeer me, as they were never friends of mine.

Who are these green-eyed monsters? Who stole my friends from me,
And told me things about them I didn't want to see.

Who are these green-eyed monsters? Who to keep me in their snare
Whisper flattery laced with poison to keep me safely there.

Who are these green-eyed monsters? Who send my sense afloat,
Who giggle, smile and whisper with their hands around my throat.

Who were these green-eyed monsters? Who tear away at me,
And make me doubt and second-guess who I ought to be.

So I'll leave their hate behind, and leave another shore,
And search within the mist, just as I've done before.

And come upon a continent of wealth and beauty made.
To find that all the people here are silent and afraid.

With silent wars a-raging, and littering the view,
Is death and carnage flailing. Was it peaceful before you?

Who say, 'Child what have you done? The battle nearly over,
The victory almost won. You've tossed your flag to the enemies side.

And claimed this fence is where you'll reside, one foot in one camp,
One foot in the other. Time now to choose between each of your brother.'

I'm caught in the crossfire, ready to bolt.
Though it was I who commenced the revolt.

Time now to leave, and take again to sea.
Seems with each people, the problem is me.

And now to see lights shine through the dark.
A fairytale world in which to embark.

Not heeding the warning before now so clear.
Oh! What a time to fall on deaf ears.

Not careful of the fairies as I signed my life away,
Nor of their contract and what it didn't say.

They had promised music, and they had promised joy.
To me, their temporary, human, disposable toy.

The sweet and blissful music, to which I dance for days
Has me blinded by its hypnotic and its dulling haze. 

Eventually down I look and to my horror see
A round and bloody pock mark where a footprint used to be.

The music and its sweetness now sours in my ears.
Curdling my sanity and enhancing my fears.

They didn't tell me lies you know, of that they're true to kind.
But I had found to what I had agreed wasn't what I'd had in mind.

To make a quick escape is vital 'round 'bout now.
To sail my ship far, far away to a distant town.

Brought abruptly to a stop, upon a twinkling shore.
Void of human life, unlike any I've seen before.

For in a pretty mirror maze I stand tall and bright
With a thousand similar faces reflected in my sight.

A thousand courageous warriors ready to face the world.
From me they take instruction, the strong and steadfast girl.

When some small noise in darkness, an echo in the night,
A small stone or pebble flashes across my sight.

A thunderous tinkling music, glass shatters at my feet.
A thousand courageous warriors. Choose they now to be discreet?

Yet here lone I stand and on myself I must reflect.
Was I the only warrior. The chosen. The elect?

A maze once filled with mirrors, in which I once believed.
Hallow with distraction, was I so easily deceived?

To board again my ship is almost more than I can bear.
What learned I from my travels? Found I comfort there?

I sail amidst the waters and declare that I am free.
And if there be a similar people, their quest be it to find me.

And would you believe that that's the version I edited down? The original was much longer with many more types of people. But unfortunately it was accidentally deleted. Yep. 

I mashed together a few poems I had written over a while for a class in college. I like to think of it as my Epic told in the style of Dr. Suess. 

I hope you enjoyed that. I'm quite proud of it. 

No comments:

Post a Comment