Andrew Joseph Smith

Rookie (26/5/1982 / Bendigo, Australia)

Spent - Poem by Andrew Joseph Smith

The night is young, eons of time are coursing through your veins
Perception skewed, reception proved and sanity at pains
A finger pointing shows of depth, of silver tongue and hate
Of things scrawled light on dusty walls, surrounding royal plates

An image once serene to hold, but violent in its wake
Of twisting passages of time, too far to contemplate
A shadow moves, it’s rays of white dance spritely on the tile
A chance imagined happiness, for years of self denial

Awake, it seems though briefly caught, as vapour in the breeze
Content to crucify as long as all your friends are pleased
Now they are fading like the ink, the pages of your youth
The search for life is now decayed, for meaning and its proofs

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 26, 2005

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