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Nature Of SkinThe surface was hard, a shell to protect its heart within,teaming with life, protecting, defending, regenerating, changing.The pigmentation shifting from one day to next,tanning and bleaching as the need would project.***Digging deep into its surface, mining what they need,the parasites drill and take at their whim and will.Sometime to the benefit of their host,other times, no so much.***The suns beams burned the surface, forcing reactions from within,the movement of resources and migration from the skin.The protection waning, the substance falling, the end is in sight for this,The forbearer of our plight.***The forces move of across its crust with insatiable prowess,washing away the cells which drink the surface dry.Winds and heat do their part to cleanse the skins subtle nature,but the lifes presence is just too pronounced
***In the final analysis, the parasites will remain, cleansing, refreshing,destroying and breeding.F
Artist WithinThe curl of her lip,the slope of her nose,the light of her skin,revealing the glow from within.***The depth of her knowlage,from the intellect within,the power of her words,her paint strokes, brushed in thirds.***The artist, the thinker, the musician she was,the blue of her eyes, the strength of her gaze,the darkness concealed,for the day must not end,not without a word, a song or colour,with this, the artist pretends.***Copyright © nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved
Cold HopeThe rain poured and yet I ran,falling through the world,its hollow substance,no container for my woes.***Once there was purpose,now there was only bleakness,a sense of order lost,direction changed.***The path still sodden,the road still wet,the end in sight,but only sorrow to get.***The chance of a future,a life recindled perhaps,hope destined to take me,its cold embrace teasing me,taunting me.***As time would pass,the road would dry,the footing solidify,the answers so crass,would inform me well,that hope would be undoubendly, become my cell.***Copyright © nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved
DecayFrom the depth of his heart,in the cold light of day,the world would fall upon him,without word or warrent,with impact it would slay.***A slave to its treachery,pandering to its will,the man would fear nothing,until the end,the finality of its shrill.***Fallen from grace,risen from decay,he knew that it would end,but how or when,he wouldnt dare to say.***Copyright © nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved
GamesTo fall from grace with such a pace,To sail away with ease and say,To end the game with die still to role,A tragic end to another of lifes matches.***The power of emotions so strong and compelling,The fear of loneliness sending madness acending,The control of the roll so necessery yet pointless,The power so deceptive and feeling so cold and ineffective.***With the game so old and yet the players so fresh,Match point to anyone who learns first,The rules of the game so bold and compelling,The aims so warm and appealing,***Though the final line will be crossed alone,With nothing to show but what you could contain,Hold, grasp or pinch,Win or lose, there can be no draw.***Copyright © nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved