Ian Quinn

Rookie (Michigan)

Idealist - Poem by Ian Quinn

I personally dislike this type of writing structure, as I feel constricted as far as vocabulary goes, but I decided to try it out and this is my result...

Scribbled textures on its skin;
Formalities and dissolution
Strange writings and senseless spins
Carvings of a righteous sin

Materialized of dust in the wind
Blessed from the lungs of selfish whims
Baring teeth from a wicked grin
This is where your world begins

Wrenched from the heart of unlawful soul
Another theory to extol
Glorifying self-control
Lossless reins assigning roles

A gift you’ve given, sight possessed
Scraps of thought are all that’s left
Valiance will reason theft
But a book of ideas- poses no threat

So empty your pockets, pay your gods
Kindling flames will do their job
Buy silver bullets, shake the mob
Before your mind exempts facade

We fight for nothing, ashes in hand
But against a thought, through which we’re damned
Of ghosts and fakes, without a plan
For nothing can foresee the character of man


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 21, 2010



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