Expectation ~ Michael Hutter
In this attic room, confined and defined
by the chequerboard light from a disinterested moon
I fake my confessions in blue ink
From a pen that has known no mercy
Save the warmth of my hand
Heads roll past in the street resigned
In the guillotine glow from a disinterested moon
Never to rise tread water or sink
But set free by a cold act of mercy
Sketched outlines by my mercenary hand
On the factory floor where hate is redesigned
To fester in the cauldron of a disinterested moon
Checked and signed in octopus ink
Set free by a heart that knows no mercy
Save the touch of my severed hand
So to this attic room I am confined
Limited in thought and deed by the iron in an idiot moon
Under which I was born to think
That the world will offer no mercy
To the director of this ink-stained hand
by the chequerboard light from a disinterested moon
I fake my confessions in blue ink
From a pen that has known no mercy
Save the warmth of my hand
Heads roll past in the street resigned
In the guillotine glow from a disinterested moon
Never to rise tread water or sink
But set free by a cold act of mercy
Sketched outlines by my mercenary hand
On the factory floor where hate is redesigned
To fester in the cauldron of a disinterested moon
Checked and signed in octopus ink
Set free by a heart that knows no mercy
Save the touch of my severed hand
So to this attic room I am confined
Limited in thought and deed by the iron in an idiot moon
Under which I was born to think
That the world will offer no mercy
To the director of this ink-stained hand
13 comments:
killer final two...
you've really got a way with your words... am always taken by what you're thinking... though i'm never too sure where
nice, disquieting feeling...
It's dark, it's flawless... I admire your skill and thought.
Really beautifull and gloomy, it is an incredible way to transmit that feeling we all experiment of darkness, being trapped in this obscurity, that our life was design for being it, and it is we where endowed with to live like with.
Beauty!
Mercy may be begged for but it still yet must be chosen to be accepted or not. Everything, after all, has a price.
Mercy, mercy, everywhere
Save for those who stop to think
Who know their fate has no date
With other people's hate
The injury goes hand in glove
With the seeking of their love
Jon: "always taken by what you're thinking... though i'm never too sure where Me too :)
Libertine: Thank you but I'm sure it aint flawless ;]
Mariana: true - there is much beauty in the gloom
walking man: begging for mercy is the last hope of the condemned
or as stated by...
Yodood: (those)Who know their fate has no date
With other people's hate
Severed hand? Not Sharia again?
Sterling thoughtstuff yet again. Here's hoping your pen hand never becomes too much of a mercenary one and certainly not severed.
James: Sharia? Who's she?
Justin: mercenary? I'm that contrary that if I was to get paid to do this I'd probably lose interest ;]
I may yet beg for mercy and then piss in the eye of the one being begged for pardon before I die.
At the end the choice still remains mine no matter the hate I face at any given date. *shrug* I choose with: whom, what, where, and when I live and accept. All begging is not sincerely done, you must know this?
walking man: of course! begging implies desperation not sincerity :)
Love it. Original and head-felt. Give me time and I will be commenting.
Welcome Greenfingers
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