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Array ( [sid] => 181208 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Symphony [time] => 2015-05-29 23:33:02 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I can’t make you understand me and everything that I stand for…
I can’t help you walk the distance my shoes have traveled.
I can’t piece the words together that will help you understand me and even more.
Not even all the oils and acrylics in the world could paint you the portrait of my past,
I can’t make you understand why when others cry I seem to laugh,
Why my benevolence is disguised by this petulance.
I can’t help you, if you wont even dignify me with a gesture of reverence.
And yet these chords, that chorus, these lines those hard strings,
The symphony of a demon with no wings,
I can’t help you see the struggle,
I can’t piece together my life like yesterdays riddle and tomorrows puzzle.
I won’t be there to protect you during the genocide
I won’t be there to hold you when then they hang you for the petitions you fought for, and for all the glory you gave him while you testified.
But take heed and let me guide your way,
Allow me to be your light in the dark,
Allow me to be that ember to ignite that spark…
Allow me to be your feet when they begin to drag and you begin to fall
I will help you run your good race as I did for Paul.
I’ve done everything I could do…
And yet through it all…
I can only pray for my salvation,
As I play these chords, and sing this song, and play these notes against these hard steel strings,
The final symphony of an angel who lost his wings.
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 239 [topic] => 11 [informant] => desciple [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ChristianPoetry )
Symphony

Contributed by desciple on Friday, 29th May 2015 @ 11:33:02 PM in AEST
Topic: ChristianPoetry



I can’t make you understand me and everything that I stand for…
I can’t help you walk the distance my shoes have traveled.
I can’t piece the words together that will help you understand me and even more.
Not even all the oils and acrylics in the world could paint you the portrait of my past,
I can’t make you understand why when others cry I seem to laugh,
Why my benevolence is disguised by this petulance.
I can’t help you, if you wont even dignify me with a gesture of reverence.
And yet these chords, that chorus, these lines those hard strings,
The symphony of a demon with no wings,
I can’t help you see the struggle,
I can’t piece together my life like yesterdays riddle and tomorrows puzzle.
I won’t be there to protect you during the genocide
I won’t be there to hold you when then they hang you for the petitions you fought for, and for all the glory you gave him while you testified.
But take heed and let me guide your way,
Allow me to be your light in the dark,
Allow me to be that ember to ignite that spark…
Allow me to be your feet when they begin to drag and you begin to fall
I will help you run your good race as I did for Paul.
I’ve done everything I could do…
And yet through it all…
I can only pray for my salvation,
As I play these chords, and sing this song, and play these notes against these hard steel strings,
The final symphony of an angel who lost his wings.




Copyright © desciple ... [ 2015-05-29 23:33:02]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Symphony (User Rating: 1 )
by Beyfoxman5 on Saturday, 30th May 2015 @ 08:06:51 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Well, you helped me understand you more through your writing. Beautifully penned.

Best,

Fox


Re: Symphony (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Saturday, 30th May 2015 @ 09:39:23 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
where'd the idealist go, guess they didn't take the corporate payout, and I suppose on their way the went silent, and I suppose the corporate news media just said to them, don't let the door hit you on your way out.


these lines are turmoil to read in the sense that someone's expressing what it means to be a disciple or follower of Paul.

There's a flow in the symphony of creation that fits
simple patterns. Perhaps where a world out of balance for the many who remain speechless could be heard
but that seems to be seldom heard.

Kurt Vonnegut the novelist, once quipped,
The world could have been saved, but we were too cheap!

Peace!





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