Poem Hunter
The Lullaby
NLL (17.05.1981 / The Molten Core)

The Lullaby

Poem By Not Long Left

the strengh of youth,
and the dishonest truth,
enabled me,
to confront the opposing decomposing,
withering and weathered rules,
sent ffrom the schools of injustice.
never one to follow the norm,
always one to brave the storm,
i rebuked, and puked out,
there force-fed dizzy desires.
and lay them to rest in novembers bonfires,
i watched them rise into the skies,
red with volcanic fury.
And the sewage that floods,
into the rivers,
remind me of you,
polluting a system,
that flowed with nature in its most tender beauty,
filling it with shit,
and not just a bit,
a constant supply of murky misery,
staining and remianing,
till all that i have loved,
run from the sight and the smell.
i begin to cry,
tears turn to puddles,
puddles into streams,
streams into deep dark lagoons,
where there is no sight of,
stars and the moons,
where the walls are wet, sharp and intimidating,
i am left shaking,
shivering and scared.
however when i am in that deep dark lagoon,
with no leg room,
and no sight of the moon,
your words rebound from my shell,
and retrace, the place,
they foolishly flew from.
such is the selfish state of deppression,
i am left feeling tired and in pain,
but with no feelings of giult,
for i have not spilt the chalice,
that kept in the palace, of the senses.
i am heavy and am held down by these words,
those that ironically,
provide me with a certain peace,
which helps to tranquilise this torrid pain,
that rips and shreds and emerges and weds,
the nerves.
outside im feeling pretty,
iniside i am feeling shitty,
and that shit on my shoe,
that sticks like glue,
reminds me of you.
The strengh of youth,
rests over time,
left to mature in casks of cheap wine,
leaving us feeling dizzy and footloose,
with hazy eyes,
we are left to program the lies,
which cling to the roots of the family tree,
from them to you,
and from me to you.

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