Do I Make My Angel WeepDo I make my angel weep,Do I Make My Angel Weep by thespes
Bowing down on bended knee,
When I sit on a lonely couch
And wrap myself in apathy?
Do I make my angel yell,
Beat the air with angry fists,
When I crawl into my bed
And wallow in the dark and doubt?
Could I make my angel sing,
Smiling brighter than the sun,
If I were to seize the day
And of failure worry not?
A General Dreams“I have a dispatch for the general, sir.”A General Dreams by thespes
“It can wait.”
“But, sir, it’s urgent. From the King himself.”
“The general is sleeping.”
“...I see, sir. I’ll see him when he wakes.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The woman was on a promontory playing her flute. The wind whipped through her hair, making it mimic the cascade of her crimson dress. The general’s practical mind noted that the direction of the wind would make playing the flute difficult, if not impossible, yet the mournful sight of her music floated effortlessly above the percussive wind. This was a dream.
He knew what he should do, but he didn’t wish to confront her, not yet. He turned to survey the land around him. It was rocky, dark, and dismal, the far off horizon blurring into a foggy gray. There were no signs of battle, no signs of death, but there were no signs of life either. A soft but piercing note tore him from the desolate landscape
Poetry?I don't seePoetry? by thespes
How this is
It's just a
RipplesWhen a ripple disturbs the surfaceRipples by thespes
Of your soul’s eternal lake,
What creature starts to stir?
What beast do you awake?
Is it a grey-green slug who moans,
But won’t be bothered to care?
Or perhaps a small grey fish
That runs away to its lair?
A dragon sporting blood red teeth
Could lose a fearsome roar,
Or will a woman clad in white
Calmly walk along the shore?
When the ripple mars the mirror
Of that internal water,
Shall you call the Golden Lady,
Or will you breed a monster?