The Fate of The Dragon

Vaccinius · The Fate of The Dragon

There was a little treasure
who did not want to be.
It really was his pleasure
to be just fantasy.

A dragon in ancient
Chinese mythology
he was, a made defiant
of sensibility.

One day he started weeping.
He could not stand the fears.
But people him in keeping
just called it dragon tears.

And so he started moaning.
To do he could not choose.
But people called it groaning
and would not let him loose.

The dragon, then, yelled loudly.
Now he was really soar.
But people said he proudly
showed what he had in store.

He really suffered insult,
the dragon, by the daft.
And when he made a tumult,
the people said he laughed.

But there were children seeing.
The child to him was friend.
The children will be freeing.
And that will be the end.

NOTE :

The song is made on Suno. My profile on Suno is to be found on www.come.beauty . This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

Ambition

To be alienated is surely not good,
To be foreign to others, and not understood.
To be cannot be grasped by the common, if not
The togetherness of it is atmosphere got.

The successful can neither this thing comprehend.
The successful will life as it shows up attend.
The two beings will both fail, though, in being right:
To the left there is solitude, darkness in sight.

Maybe cure to the alienation is just
To see outstanding being as matter of must.
As outstanding from common one is like a son.
As successfully outstanding gladness is won.

I Do Understand

I am taken aback by my option
To be in the circular way,
So with no serious interruption
And with no wish to call it a day.

My plain message to you was of passion.
It was nothing but mere feeling got,
It was jealousy foreign to fashion
And delicate certainly not.

It was big, it was pain of a chamber
Where imagery torture took place.
It was too big to vision the number
By which number twelve was to face.

To the little I made the acquaintance.
Surely ego was carried away.
Surely there is no room for repentance.
Surely pain in your heart I did lay.

A whole hour, a year, of my living
I invested in that thing to do.
Though I pain of a passion was giving,
I do understand I love you.

NOTE :

This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

Not Quite That Cracy

I would never think I would pertain.
Temporarily was my pursuit
To be sorry in all I went through.
Being damned, all my efforts in vain,
Of the being called being a none,
Which is being in some sort of gain,
Could not cope and deliver the fruit
Which is making the being of sane.

NOTE :

One will see the rhyme scheme of this poem almost fits the "abacadrabra". This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

Bullying

A blinded bull tied to a pole.
His nose is peppered, to arouse.
And in the ground is dug a hole
so it might hide the fiery nose

from dogs to seize it, from their bites.
The crowd of people howls with joy
as they are freed from checking tights.
The scary creature they destroy.

The Song of Silence

If silence sang a song,
It would go on for long,
It would be one of joy,
The sound, to girl and boy.

It would be disciplined
By air, the blowing wind.
It would not be to fear,
The Spirit loud and clear.

I Found A Box

I welcome opportunity.
I’ve had enough of surety,
Enough of laying in my bed
With out of tune thoughts in my head,
Enough of sounding no-where fit.
I found a box. It was not it.

I found a box which could pertain
To be solution not in vain,
A will of nothing to be in.
A boxer, being. Thick or thin,
The atmosphere, though, found
The shelter of a splendid sound.
Silence. And the void of wit.
I found a box. It was not it.

A flower, more, I will be like.
As such I cannot neighbour strike,
I cannot sound like failing test.
It surely will be beating best
The heart for sunshine made and lit.
I found a box. It was not it.

NOTE :

This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.