A Dream Illusive

Can you hope to shed the light
To stop
the faithful laughter, embezzled into stone
and mountain which speaks of dreams

A dream illusive, a nifty title
Frame to frame through thought to thought
And caring to much of feeble disregards
But wait, look at this from a distance

Stand where I stand, do as I do
Gaze upon this meaningless splendor
It’s a tree, dead and forgotten
A perfect metaphor for joy

Can you hope to shed your light
Honestly be the being, of your meant destiny
A meant purpose for worldly things
Do you think you can shed a light
Because I can, and I will

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poem by Troy Clark
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Twins Born Together, Fall Together

A steel crow hits a tower of freedom,
Rhythmic screams burn themselfs
into history,
You watch as hopeless doves jump
from unfaithful widows,
Only to realize their flawless wings
were clipped,
Then fall into ruble and flame.

You can hear a silent hum
as the twin of freedom
is struck by a silver needle,
Already you can hear the
flat lines,
Already you can hear the
families crying out,
The world can hear their
silence,
And we worry.

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poem by Troy Clark
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Paper, Only for a Limited Time

Paper, blank and empty
A metaphor only meant for loneliness
White as new born snow
Lets add some words
To make a prophesized poem

Words, only meant for rhetorical use
Clouds that clear, only meant to hide the blue
The living, moving ocean that is our sky
Words, only meant for questioning
What are words but meaning

Clearing clouds, our living pulse bleeds through
Now this blank piece of paper
Has a shadow, and my shadow -combine
Lets make music together
Beautiful, wonderful, majestic music
Lets be music together-
And dance our hearts to something holy

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poem by Troy Clark
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Life is, and what is life?

I walk this path of darkest light
No freedom or room for flight
No exception, my world going gray
Life is, and what is life.

Autumns breath turn bitter cold to silent rest
Dust these souls, my chained impurity
The clouds roam free, gates that are left to clog
And heavens maiden, alone to rose herself away

I see a spider in your eyes
Silent, deadly-all so hopelessly pointless
In the grandest of grand-the scheme’s of things are weighted
I still roll the bloodied dice
But am unwilling to accept fate-which fate, has chained me.

We all walk amongst slaughtered lambs
God’s metaphor for purity and scrutiny
We-the hamsters of his will
Are still unopened for the dream

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poem by Troy Clark
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