Lyrics stick to the candles wick....

4 Comments

Tags:
  • Lyrics
    • nature
    • is adjacent to the sun and moon.....can life get any more creative

    Poem Commentary

    just a small lyric that struck my mind, so I decided to release its potence...

    Lyrics stick to the candles wick....

    I relish the fact that i'm imperfect
    with a knack to attack the masses that lack,
    the substance to sack,
    the knowledge so kept
    within the universe and earthly format I wept
    a tear of respect in natures affect
    as the mind, body, and soul fade to black
    you ask, how may one act in retrospect?
    time is the element, appreciate no less
    than the fact is life is eternally his pact
    reaching in dimensions of my shape isn’t flat
    I carry knowledge & strength in a bag on my back
    every moment a Kodak
    never lack to track the smaller things as one maps
    life, existence, what's the meaning of that?
    We all will soon know, a little deeper in fact
    is the question of a lifetime..........yeah that!

    Poem Comments

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    Savant commented on Lyrics stick to the candles wick....

    11-02-2009

    I wish I could hear the track. I got the rhythm. For me, pieces like this are an excercise. Short phrases with matching words and little meaning but you have done a good job of meshing that hip hop appeal to a deeper idea. What is the meaning of life?

    DeepEclipse commented on Lyrics stick to the candles wick....

    10-20-2009

    Rhyming on point as usual. Constant repetive rhymes of the same tone has always been a goal for me to reach. To keep attaining the next level. Loved it here. And at least the imperfection leaves you with a constant goal. A constant reach. A desire to always remain vigilant and honed, and that there will never be a limit to the potential. Enjoyed this flood of lyricism.

    nonners commented on Lyrics stick to the candles wick....

    10-19-2009

    i loveth the lyrical way of getting your point across. added it to my faves.great read.as i knew it would be.

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.