Battle of the Minds.

They fought til dawn.
Roses shattered like grass,
fresh with the morning frost.
Massive intervals, colossal collisions,
meteors, in a gap of space.

Such random mists the tide fortold,
yet strong she was, the ship, my soul.
The test was grim, a debt was owed.
A madman's tales, both young, and old.
And razor rocks hid in the mist,
the tools of Satan, renditions best.

But sail the waters ever on.
The burden weighed,
Every Dawn.

Then from the mist, not hell but hope.
A thought myself, and not this dope.
So what then is? The air hung thick.
I guess I'm destined to fill my ship.



Yea I wrote that on the car ride home... I yelled the first line, then started the second, thought to make it work, and then pulled into a DD's so I could write/ finish it. The best part is I had rolled a joint to smoke on this ride home. My last joint before I join the army. It was a much better joint then I thought.

I hope y'all like it.

 

Feel free to collaborate poemwise if you get the urge... Inspiration strikes in odd places

 

Thanks, I really started to feel the flow from the second stanza on, but since the second followed the first... I couldn't get rid of it.