Rising Up: A Poem

So I haven't posted on here in a long time. And that's entirely my fault. To tell you the truth, there hasn't been much to post about. With summer here, writing is taking precedence; and writing posts go to Teenage Writer. But the proud, the few, still follow this blog, eh?

Guess what? I'm going to subject you to a horrible bit of poetry. Happy birthday.

However, the poem is a rather serious and heartfelt one. In it, I ventured, through a series of words and vibrant pictures, to help the reader feel what I mean, rather than tell them. Thus, I wrote it in sloppy rhyme-and-meter. To get the best results, you can read the poem aloud in a fast manner.

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Rising Up

I open my eyes, take a look around

Hearing not a rustle, hearing not a sound

I used to see in grey, but now—but now

I can see! is it not so? listen how

I found in surrender I was strong

I found submission in my song

Because really, is silence better than sound?

Open your eyes, take a look around.

Blinding, I'm finding

The euphoria is rising

It's crazy, hazy

But colorful as lightning

Can you hear it?

Can you see it?

It comes from within

The liquid burns

My heart churns

But I'm rising again.

Don't listen to the voices coming in the night

They're telling you to quit, that everything's all right

Don't be content with the way things are

They don't worry about the future 'cause they can't see that far

They say to look away and always leave it be

But what they don't realize is that these chains are breaking free

We can't quit, never, because nothing's ever right

Don't listen to the voices that are coming in the night.

It's blazing, and crazing

The flames are burning hot

It's calling, I'm falling

But more often than not

I hear it

I see it

It's coming from within

The flame burns

My soul yearns

Rising up again.

We'll never be content, we'll always be the rebel

We're warriors on enemy grounds, fighting off the devil

But rising up, it's burning out, it can never rest

The spirit of eternity and spirit of the blest

Don't wait for it, run, run until you faint

To victory is running the ever-burning saint

Wake up, don't sleep, 'cause here comes the devil

Never be content with sin, always be the rebel.

It's pouring rain, insane

Never let it stop

It's calling, I'm crawling

I'll make it to the top

I'll never sleep

And though I weep

It's coming from within

My passion burns

My spirit yearns

And I will rise again.

My passion burns

My spirit yearns

I'm rising up again.

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Do you feel what I meant to say? What does the poem tell you?

And what do you think I ought to post about on this poor blog? *glances at the dusty, forlorn thing fondly*

--

Jake