Scattered beneath the shutter is a shattered soul
It mutters not to give up the butter(the smeared facade)
‘ve got to be smarter, to show you it never matters
Every tutter eventually gets fatter
‘ll titter just to make you teeter
Coz to go yonder, you’ve gotta ponder.
What makes them patter?
The desire to see a latter on their platter.
Behold a crater and its creator
By the illuminator, that cunning predator.
@Daabris
I am a tell, a trail of tales
Born from how to spell
Torn on why I dwell
Yet on and on I swell
Ànd now I am a well
Sworn to one day sell
As vast as does a bell
To reach the unwell
To catch those that fell
Now that’s my intent
A tent free of torment
For I’m sent to show you rest.
@Daabris.
Behind every tide is a side that just won’t abide
Tied to each other, each dyed with the other
And yeah…could render one as having died.
A blind ordeal to those with no binding ideals.
To aid one with such trait could have you a maid,
(Just to avoid hailing you a druid)
Of fluid yet like a squid coz like apartheid,
It’s a parade for a portrayed coup
Therefore, for every tide, locate it’s pride
Find out how to make it slide
Fried i.e smoke it, before they cried
Do you mind?
@Daabris
Boy do I wonder
Apparently life can be defined as either linear or curvaceous
Don’t, just don’t!!
So, age is counted as in a number line yet time is ∞
Ironical much…the same flatline in a hospital, is lifeless
The circle or cycle of life they say.
The world seems flat yet it’s a sphere
With my face I observe the surface of the earth.(A scarface nowadays)
What a resemblance…mountains, nose ends, valleys, eyelids….
My theory…that’s how they came about with levels:
Social status….classes
Education….grades
The sea itself had to come up with waves too
So what’s this sage about… where’s your stage?
Them that siege or the sandwiched?
Perspective is determined by passed-objectives
Lift up your eyes, break the ice and the lies ofcos
Spice your dice rolling, some may take it as a ‘guise but…
In short it’s nice to be wise,
Coz then you’ll dwell in the skies.
Ofcos life’s a wonder.
@Daabris
I see you, yes you
The real, the ideal
You’re a great deal
And like in a meal
Many seals you’ve made
Will you wield that as your will?
Yielding to the drill?
Or rather twist the leaf,
See the dew, the representation of new?
Known dawn down the mawn lawn.
Yes it’s an error
But even eras come to an end
What matters is your next errand
And a warrant, just to avoid a rant.
An ant?
Yeah, the part where you make a pact,
Stay apart, do you part until you deserve;
A pat.
Alert not a luck.
@Daabris.
A story is told,
Of glory unfold.
A yearning of old,
Churning the cold,
By learning to be of the fold.
A story is told,
Of love overboard.
Again, it was foretold,
And for it, many were stoned.
Reproached, ofcos scathed,
To have you and me bathed;
Better yet saved.
This story is sold,
Yet FREE to every soul.
To miss will be foul.
It doesn’t have to be a haul;
To realize we don’t want anyone howl.
A story is told… I call you aboard.
@Daabris.
So life is like a pendulum,
Or at least it’s engagements are.
How many oscillations till….
One tires from swinging,
Or collides while dealing.
Okay, life is like a flower,
Blooming it’s elegance or
Fuming it’s fallacies.
How many moments…
From grace of the great,
To grass from your last dance.
But LIFE is a given power.
The unction to possess,
The function to process,
The junction to prowess;
The production of success.
Leave the mes(s) for eating.
Take a recess from the folly.
Choose the “bless” for a living
@Daabris.
It’s easy to think you’re in control,
After all, it could feel like parole;
When you roll with them ‘major roles’
Yeah, many will find this a troll.
Hear the drumroll…they call them tumtum,
Merry to the doll on one end,
Dreary to the soul on the dead end.
Tried to burrow the earth,
Turns out it’s hollow,
But more precisely…it’s shallow
On whom to follow, gallows everywhere.
No longer the era of….
Know how…. but of
How now?
I’d love to turn right,
Seems like quite the flight,
But will I be left?
Wise to always cling to the cleft
One flinty wouldn’t even need a hint,
The content don’t mind this tent,
But are competent before it’s said;
“They went.”
Behold the Truth…His truth.
Either be cold or hot
Yeah, I know about the Auroral Display
Or should I say the northern lights…
But you just can’t be lukewarm.
Light to your right or Left in the unrest?
~Daabris
I ask again, what gain is therein when disdain is the paint you nickname dare?
What pleasure is worth such measure of departure yet a true treasure though seeming to be in an aperture, has been availed by His closure?
Why not capture not the sculpture but He that has the sceptre, before rapture?
Make my ask your task, like a tusk it’ll be ivory… precious
~Daabris
A word, a phrase, a poem. The art of Art