Bron Dayvid, 8 lutego 2012
A part of me wants to think.
Abandon society.
Its erroneous politics
erratic habits
violent passions.
So inexplicably enthralled in fashions.
I would move to Athens.
Live honestly
Socratically.
I imagine me.
Out of man’s harm
Into mother nature’s arms
Happily.
What else do I need to live.
Besides Life Soul and Thought.
Save your criticism. For I only hear the winds talk.
And they whisper with such a soft elegance.
Reminding me to look at the trees, who then remind me of the
birds
whose beautiful songs
in return wake the flowers
who still, after millenniums
, have yet to acknowledge their power.
How humble.
The descendants of The
Garden of Eden.
Tiny miracles.
Proves again and again that His craftsmanship is flawless.
But as lively as summer may be. Comes grim reaping August.
I cannot stop the seasons from changing.
I cannot stop us from tainting.
For that must require immense concentration.
Not that I am overly vain or lacking patience .
You see, most of me wants to think.
But it is the wisest who must drink.
Bron Dayvid, 28 stycznia 2012
The
Earth and the Sun have been through everything together
The
sun was there from day one nurturing and providing
Everything
the Earth every needed but
Temptation
is captivating and captures
The
souls of even the strongest beings
And
the Earth though deeply worshiping the sun
Caught
sight of a another
With a
fluorescent hypnotizing glow
Magnetizing…
attracting the Earth
Loyal
but weak willed the Earth gave in
To
this beautiful structure known as the Moon
And
soon… a secret affair surmised
So the
Earth fell asleep with the Moon
And
woke up with his lover the Sun
Guilty
but guilt free enough
To
never admit what he has done
As
time drifts by the Earth is greeted with pressure greater than gravity
Gravitates
into a state of mind that gradually worsens
Guaranteed
to be caught he ask himself was it even worth it
Because
the love he shared with the Sun was perfect…
Why
risk such a beautiful bliss
Finally I found love and then I do something
like this…
What
have I done…what have I done… to my beloved Sun
The
end has now begun…….To be Continued
Bron Dayvid, 28 stycznia 2012
I would have told her
I loved her but;
the bus came, and I
had but one ticket
Bron Dayvid, 28 stycznia 2012
I
Me
Myself
Alone
Myself
Me
I
Am
I
Am
Myself
When
I’m Alone
Alone
Is
me
Myself
I
Am
Not
Amongst
Others
Who
Are
Not
me
So
For
I
To
be myself
I
must be
Alone
By
Myself
I
Am
Me
Bron Dayvid, 26 stycznia 2012
I'm losing I’m trapped in an
illusion
the truth only adds to my confusion
So if I doubt the sincerity of the
words you speak
pardon my rudeness
But please don't judge my prudence
for I am only a boy
A mere child ripped from my mother’s
womb
Tossed into a world where they assume
My innocence will be my doom when in
fact it acts as a cocoon
Protecting me from what lies behind
seemingly welcoming eyes
But I see the disguise
a reflection of my conception of love
For which I have a bad first impression
of
I thought it came at first sight I should
have looked twice
disgusted with the fact that I almost trusted this once beloved
Mirror
but now I see clearer
Bron Dayvid, 20 stycznia 2012
Hypocrites
Interestingly
Going
Hoping
Something
Cool
Happens
Occasionally
Otherwise
Leaving
Soon
Bron Dayvid, 9 stycznia 2012
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss
Generation.
Miscommunication;
miss communication.
A
Generation Loss.
Whose Loss,
The
Generation?
No.
Creation.
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss in a
Generation.
An error in
translation;
which
translates to damnation,
for said
generation and generation to come.
The Loss:
Whose
Fault;
Who Fought?
All.
And none
but one.
Which is
why we loss, a generation.
A Generation
Loss.
A Loss Generation.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions;
Forsaken.
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss Generation.
When was
the loss?
Patience,
Patience, Patience.
Bron Dayvid, 9 stycznia 2012
Hush
pretty lady don't say a word
I know why you cry I know why it's hurts
In
time all the pain goes away
But if you don't accept it the pain will stay
Once
a pretty lady now a broken girl
Nowhere to be found lost in the world
Once
a pretty lady now a scared girl
Gave all her love away has not a care in the world
I
sing a lullaby to say goodbye to my pretty lady
With her pretty eyes and luscious skin
I
sing a lullaby to say goodbye to my pretty lady
in hope that I can b a friend
I
Hope that I can still save her
But I was her executioner
Turned
a lover into hater
And now I’m losing her
I
mean lost her
She now is a foster
Because
she was my baby
I let her go and I made her cry
My
pretty pretty lady
For you I sing this lullaby
Bron Dayvid, 9 stycznia 2012
You kidnap my son and hold him for Ransom
Forcing him to speak an unknown tongue
If he had legs I am sure he would run
You molest my daughter and tell her lies like
You love her and how you knew her mother but she knows the truth
So her eyes you cover and her mouth you smother
I'm your father now, you say
Your real dad past away
You raped my wife in public sight for all to see
I sigh but don't cry for she still is in me
So is my daughter and so is my son
See what you thought you had plenty of turns out to be none
Your pathetic
I weep
It saddens me to see such a shameful act
But I also smile, how flattered I am to be your dad
Was it not I who gave you birth
Is it not I you see in your reflection
So as they cheer and as they praise know
It was I who impressed them
Bron Dayvid, 7 stycznia 2012
The Artic Bear,
The lover of Tundra and frozen air,
Awaits a Sleepless Hibernation;
One that is done in Solitaire.
This Frigid Beast,
Conqueror of harmonious peace.
For none shall dare
Enter such wintery grief.
This Warm-blooded Soul,
Modestly plays the role;
For what some many fear
Is to lose control
Night comes, as well as winter
With no regard for one’s replies
The Artic Bear accepts and remembers
The Coldest nights and the darkest skies
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