IDENTITY/POEM VIDEO | finished poem

This is the finished poem. Desiree might cut it down for her film, but this is the whole thing. Might adjust some small bits/edits, but this is the whole structure and solid thing.

Captain Soul drives the ship
Spinning the Wheel aimlessly
He takes no notice
but one day turns and says:

‘Look into the Silver Screen.
Tell me, do they love you?’
Carried away by the Silver Stream
The stars – they will direct you.

To be Somebody;
it’s a pain that they see me
Oh – to be perceived
Oh – how daring to be.

If the ship keeps sailing
How much can change
For it to still be the same?
Rebuilt and replaced
with the same exact face.

Staring into the mirror
Its oh so blue
Falling into the Silver Screen
Do wolves howl truths?
Falling into the Silver Screen
A flower blooms.

‘To be reborn!’
Left you tired and sore
Washed upon the soup-y bank
where trees begin to speak.

Alas! The Philosopher!
“Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy,” he says pitifully.
“I’m dead, sir!” you reply.
Flung downwards, onto the floor.
Looking into the waters
Face washed blue and
thinking of death.
Lying on the soil, they dream
of being forever green.
My nails have grown wrong
Blue isn’t the colour
and ive never felt any less fuller.
breath is absurd and nothing to think of
except death.

Living lives of the Episodic
with no resolutions
A regular occurrence of Happenings
With flat and sharp Inbetweens.

OH TO BE PERCEIVED !
BUT ALSO to perceive…
Sick of Seeing
Sick of the Sight
that was gifted from the captain
on can no longer bare to see reality

So I depended upon the mirror
to watch the dread
to feel less real.
and become a maybe instead.

OH TO PERCEIVE
BUT ALSO to be perceived!
I remember throwing pebbles
so picnickers would look at me!

OH to be perceived
and also to perceive!
Eating off the silver screen
looking at the previews
a lover of weeds as well as flowers
the sunset now lasts a lifetime

Head brimming with gloom
In an hour it turns to gold!
Im ready to grow
but im afraid my bones may have set
seeds scraped out leaving a pit
A deep and shallow well
That waits for change to be spent.
Well, you didn’t wish for this
But that is What you get.

The cold isn’t biting hard enough at my skin
I stand there, sleepy and dim;
The sun begins to rise
I stand so young,
the trees so wise
waiting for the reprise.

You remember that its easy to forget
That circles come back around
when the ground is so very dry
Generally it’s the same
Yet different within.
The leaves have withered in ice
But not without leaving a bright
rusty impression of a Promised Return
For the sacrifice is only temporary.
The freshness of green
that you waited to see
gifts rest to those eyes
which where once weary.