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Welcome to my newest MindSpring Please forgive the mess while I call around to find the best decorators in town? | |||||||||||||||||
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Music
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Art
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Hello, my name is Brize. I'm a writer... but who isn't? If you can scribble your name on a piece of paper, you're a writer. We're all taught from an early age that communication with others may be our most important tool in life. This is my little way of communicating with the world. I hope to give you an enjoyable read of my original works soon. |
I also enjoy all forms of art and will be adding a list of my favorite art on the web links as well. But... just because it's my taste doesn't mean you'll like it. However, I do sincerely hope that if you find just one thing through me that makes you stop for a second and just admire... I'll feel justified in having foisted my opinion upon you. ;)
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Poetry: My Passion
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| All song lyrics are poetry... some great... some bad... but poetry none-the-less. There is nothing so beautiful as when music and poetry collide. But... my first love is poetry in all it's various forms. Music itself can convey a climate or a feeling, but it can never blatantly state a feeling so well as a word is capable. The reason for this page, is the written word of my songs... my poetry. | |||||||||||||||||
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after the title of one of my poems. It may not be one of my best, but it is one of my most emotional. A summation of my entire life in 72 lines or less Indicative of all the various twists and turns in my mind... my Mental Labyrinth. Where my words come from, where my drive to communicate originates, and more often than not, where I wander lost in my thoughts and musings. Whether they be about my past, my present, or my future... each of my writings definitely has some hidden meaning. If you have the time, I invite you to take a little trip into my labyrinth of thought... and read my mind... as that is what my words are.
In this life
there is emptiness,
a lonely hollow core...
brimmed to the brink
cerebrally
desirous of yet more.
On this face
lies a sad display,
etchings of endless pain...
trophies of war
perceptively
evince glimpses not quite sane.
Under this construct
there is no foundation,
just walls without a floor...
outward, inward
residually
built with only an inner door.
Through this maze
lies a mental labyrinth,
where thoughts in torrents rain...
drenching, numbing
pessimistically
wrapping sweet auras around harsh pain.
Permeating this lust
of the purely physical,
is an urgent desire to push away...
obey the mind
intellectually
bidding body and heart a stay.
Through this pride
at supple resilience,
a threshold you cannot get past...
conscious moat
deliberately
dug and fortified to last.
Above this wish
shoots a fleeting star,
illuminating the cerebral fray...
opening dungeons
delicately
to the kiss of a brand new day.
Across this abyss
emotional bridges are built,
over which the demons are cast...
seeing truth
undeniably
passions escape en masse.
Into this dream
floats an apparition,
lighting this hall of mirrors...
stealing the trophies
comprehensibly
exposing the complete array of fears.
Beneath this facade
of worn leather is faded lace,
unveiled to conqueror on firey steed...
unobstructed view
pliantly
satiably begins to feed.
Within this vision
neither rote nor mechanical,
a subtle shifting of the gears...
oil on metal
penetrantly
abrogates rust from many tears.
Beyond this want
for the unattainable,
there exists the need...
awash with hesitance
but sincerely
lays an already completed deed.
�Brize Douglas
August 16,1997
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are protected under international copyright laws
and are not to be used without the express written permission
of the writer, designer, and poet. (Unless otherwise stipulated on the page).
But, hey... I'm easy... just write to me and ask
if you'd like to use any of my arrangements of words.
�1997 Brize Douglas
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