Analysis of Rejection

A poets dream

One lone blade of grass to sway in the wind,
Torn in violent degree of remorse.
Then exposed from its darkened elements from within
This old world was never intended to be home

~
Torn with emblems of barbed wire fences.

Attached within countless memories;
Along with remorse with vile taunt attached within fire face down.
A decorated aura tossed within fatal misery.
With death pangs given rise to birth pangs.

Within its creativity along with a lasting memory
To the potter who lost his clay
Sought after life in light of the radiance of the brilliance of a key
Although the earthly skeptic would often beg to disagree

To the poet who lost his way in the night

Just as thought would so often think to write
Can't even think to dismiss an earthly bliss in some time well spent in thought
Rejection in the third degree
A fine young lad with the hope that she would marry thee

The twilight sun had tainted my inner vision

With words expressed in deep contempt filled with its remorse of disbelief.
Perhaps this was the same darkened path where Nero had trod?
On a painted canvas torn into rhetoric decorum
With lazy diamonds filled up with orchids in his miserable head

A way of Chesterton's look on the whole concept of family life amidst its strife

A final homily where others lose their hope
Then arise to vainly disagree
To dream with storms in the night to fright
Following the wolf pack then to slay its final dragon

All to travel on Sunset Boulevard

A sight filled with fast cars some without wheels

The inner flask on one tormented soul left for road kill smashed skulls

Watched overhead as buzzards would ever fly

Which looking overhead twice killed by passing motorist to ride
Dreams can take one all the way
To kingdom come yet there is still time to change the road your on
Fashioned by stringed pearls then at last

Thrown onto the pavement at death's door alone

Yet still marked on a blotted page
Yet still very much fully intact
Rejection can make one want to soar to heaven's door.
Lest I shall simply implore

Mark the man who will rise to explore,

Some other way
By choice perhaps it would lead one to the exact jewel on the river Nile
Perhaps a sought given chance to ever roll the dice
With madness thoughts of filtered suicide

Torn up with barbed wire to hide in torn desolation inside

A society filled with miserable people
Thinking nothing to ever stop at the church steeple
A lone atheist haunted by darkened shadows in the night by choice to fright
Never to question the meaning of his vague existence nor that of plight

A challenge to be set free is all a question in time

Marked on a blotted page with a line
Along with drawn feathers in the wind
A given chance to perhaps begin again
Merciful one this chip off my shoulder;

Perhaps it's the poet's best medicine to begin again

A critic elusive to twist their words with the utmost strict opinion

Just can't live up to their perfect standard in thought
A thought by which to ponder perhaps a call up yonder
A rotten soul to harm & toss
Rejection

A bitter toss with another role of the dice
A devil's taunt with Rosemary & spice
With cloven briars from a torn culture of death
Having long viscous fangs that bite in the night

On the haunted sorrowful quest with no place to rest

Eyes shattered with tombstone black
In darkened distortion with no hope to ever turn back
Attached to the vine of pain & destruction
Their god of self exalted over the king of kings

Perhaps it's some viable Mark Twain theme?
Never give up even when the fat lady sings
For a winner in life is just another quitter
That gets up and gives it one last try