Poetry competition CLOSED 14th May 2012 2:41am
WINNER
OctoberArts (October)
OctoberArts (October)
RUNNER-UP:
rayheinrich
Life
Epitaph For The World
Avalanches of time rocks gather
in ancient lime state flocks
as the violin sky unlocks
releasing its corrosive weather .
The spinning , burning
flaming , war fire ring
how long
before its man kinds last rite song
how long
before the final analogue dong
the sound of the eastern gong .
Oil, ticking
the toil
starts slicking
mad Colonels are sickening
upon this rock
we just wait for the wave of shock .
Separatists
terrorists
hostage holding
rebel fists
religious
unindigenous
fundamentalists
sunburst colours crash through the mist
desert soldiers lie dead in the dust .
Broken bricks
burnt out wicks
a child stands crying in the eclipse
a world sits sighing
at TV's of blitz .
Vacant baby eyes
of sufferage
no yule tide surprise
at the orphanage .
An abandoned teddy bear
against a blood smeared kerb
a distant unclear
perturbed, smouldering Serb .
Artillery fire balls burning the air
in a glare
to sadden
Armistice or Armageddon
could it end or will it happen .
Freedom fighters
IRA bombers
semtex lighters
standing outside Harrods .
No more seas
and weathered rocks
ageing trees or building blocks
theres just the stagnant shattered faces
of a world and its dead clocks .
Avalanches of time rocks gather
in ancient lime state flocks
as the violin sky unlocks
releasing its corrosive weather .
The spinning , burning
flaming , war fire ring
how long
before its man kinds last rite song
how long
before the final analogue dong
the sound of the eastern gong .
Oil, ticking
the toil
starts slicking
mad Colonels are sickening
upon this rock
we just wait for the wave of shock .
Separatists
terrorists
hostage holding
rebel fists
religious
unindigenous
fundamentalists
sunburst colours crash through the mist
desert soldiers lie dead in the dust .
Broken bricks
burnt out wicks
a child stands crying in the eclipse
a world sits sighing
at TV's of blitz .
Vacant baby eyes
of sufferage
no yule tide surprise
at the orphanage .
An abandoned teddy bear
against a blood smeared kerb
a distant unclear
perturbed, smouldering Serb .
Artillery fire balls burning the air
in a glare
to sadden
Armistice or Armageddon
could it end or will it happen .
Freedom fighters
IRA bombers
semtex lighters
standing outside Harrods .
No more seas
and weathered rocks
ageing trees or building blocks
theres just the stagnant shattered faces
of a world and its dead clocks .
Earth at full throttle
The world
an engine piston
shoving and shifting
compression , obsession
power in full comission .
Full forward traction
all for interaction .
Relaxation
high speed jubliation
moving across
all of the nations .
Forgiven
well ridden
grudges gone by
its time to use
and open
your third eye .
Interceptive and objective
its time to be a little more
perceptive
or collective ,
interactive , less of the captive
a touch towards
a world more attractive .
Technology
bad intentions
no apology
no comprehensions
what's the point of all
these interventions .
Combustion of internal
revving up of the infernal
nuculear powers ,
sky scraping towers
Taliban claiming to be muslim
but there cowards .
The modern world at war
one half winning
and their inforced law
the other one keeps spinning
each other they abhore
for f**ks sake
everyday I awake
and I just can't take
it anymore .
The world
an engine piston
shoving and shifting
compression , obsession
power in full comission .
Full forward traction
all for interaction .
Relaxation
high speed jubliation
moving across
all of the nations .
Forgiven
well ridden
grudges gone by
its time to use
and open
your third eye .
Interceptive and objective
its time to be a little more
perceptive
or collective ,
interactive , less of the captive
a touch towards
a world more attractive .
Technology
bad intentions
no apology
no comprehensions
what's the point of all
these interventions .
Combustion of internal
revving up of the infernal
nuculear powers ,
sky scraping towers
Taliban claiming to be muslim
but there cowards .
The modern world at war
one half winning
and their inforced law
the other one keeps spinning
each other they abhore
for f**ks sake
everyday I awake
and I just can't take
it anymore .
For Green Leaves on the Ground
I've always wanted to be a tree,
you said. To watch the world pass.
To stand on a corner and watch
the people go. To be bigger than them,
bigger than just people, man, that's
what I've always wanted. No worries
for your roots 'cause you've got no family,
no need to be a part of something else,
just your roots in the ground, man.
It's depth in height.
As for me, I was only half listening,
with my gaze fixed fast on the ground
where a branch lay full of green leaves.
Something decided these leaves weren't right,
pulled them off and left them to die, to wither,
believing they're still alive to the end, bright
waxy green cheeks paling, drying, disintegrating.
And nobody cries for green leaves on the ground.
You've always wanted to be a tree, I said
'cause you've never felt like more than this.
I've always wanted to be a tree,
you said. To watch the world pass.
To stand on a corner and watch
the people go. To be bigger than them,
bigger than just people, man, that's
what I've always wanted. No worries
for your roots 'cause you've got no family,
no need to be a part of something else,
just your roots in the ground, man.
It's depth in height.
As for me, I was only half listening,
with my gaze fixed fast on the ground
where a branch lay full of green leaves.
Something decided these leaves weren't right,
pulled them off and left them to die, to wither,
believing they're still alive to the end, bright
waxy green cheeks paling, drying, disintegrating.
And nobody cries for green leaves on the ground.
You've always wanted to be a tree, I said
'cause you've never felt like more than this.
- The Three Hours of Life -
Splendid is the hour, when the sky is of hue rosy,
And the rising of the sun is fresh upon the land...
When above the tops of trees and hills, the rays!
They shine like the tines of a golden crown to see,
And none may slumber seeing all it may portend...
So may the soul be moved, when to glory it prays.
What power, that moves us through the day to rise,
Can read all that, within the heart, most often lies?
What hand, that guides us over the peril of snares,
Can keep us from being moved by those high stars?
As in our youth, we have much to learn and still do,
Before we may embark upon each journey anew.
Exalted is the time, when the earth is illuminated,
And the day is clear, as is each pleasant breeze...
When fair is the sky, and even fairer the weather!
Each hour we walk, like a pilgrimage once created,
And none may turn aside their craft on the seas...
Once gone upon their direction, like a true brother.
What strength, that drives us so fast on our goals,
Can mold us so, like a sword upon a forge's coals?
What force, that shapes us in the hour of destiny,
Can make us sally forth from the pleasant country?
As throughout our lives, we have duties to perform,
Before the hour of our rest can herald a new morn.
Beloved is the moment, when gold streaks the sky,
And brings the purple robes that must be donned...
When the sun must journey west into the vastness!
Pleasant is the company of evening none may deny,
And with the sealing of the light never abandoned...
The night may descend, so regal in her velvet dress.
What will, that calls us to surrender unto the night,
Can hold us so, enraptured by the stars' noble light?
What spirit, that humbles us so that we must sleep,
Can wake us until our dreams have taken us deep?
As when age has brought us wisdom, and reward,
Before we may understand the secret of the word.
Splendid is the hour, when the sky is of hue rosy,
And the rising of the sun is fresh upon the land...
When above the tops of trees and hills, the rays!
They shine like the tines of a golden crown to see,
And none may slumber seeing all it may portend...
So may the soul be moved, when to glory it prays.
What power, that moves us through the day to rise,
Can read all that, within the heart, most often lies?
What hand, that guides us over the peril of snares,
Can keep us from being moved by those high stars?
As in our youth, we have much to learn and still do,
Before we may embark upon each journey anew.
Exalted is the time, when the earth is illuminated,
And the day is clear, as is each pleasant breeze...
When fair is the sky, and even fairer the weather!
Each hour we walk, like a pilgrimage once created,
And none may turn aside their craft on the seas...
Once gone upon their direction, like a true brother.
What strength, that drives us so fast on our goals,
Can mold us so, like a sword upon a forge's coals?
What force, that shapes us in the hour of destiny,
Can make us sally forth from the pleasant country?
As throughout our lives, we have duties to perform,
Before the hour of our rest can herald a new morn.
Beloved is the moment, when gold streaks the sky,
And brings the purple robes that must be donned...
When the sun must journey west into the vastness!
Pleasant is the company of evening none may deny,
And with the sealing of the light never abandoned...
The night may descend, so regal in her velvet dress.
What will, that calls us to surrender unto the night,
Can hold us so, enraptured by the stars' noble light?
What spirit, that humbles us so that we must sleep,
Can wake us until our dreams have taken us deep?
As when age has brought us wisdom, and reward,
Before we may understand the secret of the word.
- The Mists of Time -
Each era of man is thought lost to all the ages,
When in reality, time is not ever so simply done...
Every deed is imprinted so well upon the ether,
So that the living universe itself remembers it all.
Each (every) forgotten moment known to sages,
Writ in tomes of history, in every known tongue...
And all of the poetry, every line and every meter;
Will be remembered long after a civilization's fall.
Measureless and measured, nothing is lost;
Everything endures, no matter what the cost.
All the cities that fade into the desert sands,
May one day rise again by an architect's hands.
There is a place in every mind we think is hidden,
But which every living soul possesses so secure.
A palace, grander than the gilt of old Versailles...
Wherein the moments of a lifetime are preserved.
Some think as little of it as they would a midden,
Whilst others flee to it as to some familiar shore.
Welcome and forbidden, like the evening skies...
Which either frighten or move when so observed.
Boundless and bound, nothing is forgotten,
All that is best, along with all that is rotten.
Every notion that has ever been given vent;
Cannot be taken back, once it has been sent.
In the mists of time, nothing is ever so truly past,
For even the cycles of ages can turn, like wheels.
Moving days and destinies to come and also go...
Only to come again, when the moment is at hand!
For eternity the wheels turn, and forever will last,
Causing every soul to wonder whenever it feels...
A moment that we lived before, of joy or of woe.
For always that moment will be a part of the land!
Endless and ending, nothing is beyond reach,
Not even the Heaven of which holy men preach.
We are only as far from the sacred as we sink,
And we are never truly as damned as we think.
Each era of man is thought lost to all the ages,
When in reality, time is not ever so simply done...
Every deed is imprinted so well upon the ether,
So that the living universe itself remembers it all.
Each (every) forgotten moment known to sages,
Writ in tomes of history, in every known tongue...
And all of the poetry, every line and every meter;
Will be remembered long after a civilization's fall.
Measureless and measured, nothing is lost;
Everything endures, no matter what the cost.
All the cities that fade into the desert sands,
May one day rise again by an architect's hands.
There is a place in every mind we think is hidden,
But which every living soul possesses so secure.
A palace, grander than the gilt of old Versailles...
Wherein the moments of a lifetime are preserved.
Some think as little of it as they would a midden,
Whilst others flee to it as to some familiar shore.
Welcome and forbidden, like the evening skies...
Which either frighten or move when so observed.
Boundless and bound, nothing is forgotten,
All that is best, along with all that is rotten.
Every notion that has ever been given vent;
Cannot be taken back, once it has been sent.
In the mists of time, nothing is ever so truly past,
For even the cycles of ages can turn, like wheels.
Moving days and destinies to come and also go...
Only to come again, when the moment is at hand!
For eternity the wheels turn, and forever will last,
Causing every soul to wonder whenever it feels...
A moment that we lived before, of joy or of woe.
For always that moment will be a part of the land!
Endless and ending, nothing is beyond reach,
Not even the Heaven of which holy men preach.
We are only as far from the sacred as we sink,
And we are never truly as damned as we think.
- The Music of Life -
I hear the falling of the rain, outside my window's pane,
Like a drumbeat in the mist that gathers on the plains.
The moon outside is a pale, white eye looking down below...
Like a sorrowful god whose name is lost, filled all with woe.
The branches of the trees seem to reach for the very stars,
Whilst each and every one of them bears years of old scars.
The owl I hear in the distance seems to cry out for the land,
As if it were the voice of nature, obeying some command.
Who, it seems to ask so oft, who shall bring the light anew,
Only the morning star's rising, may fashion that wish true.
And so with dawn shall come the sun; colors brightly wove,
On some celestial tapestry, the sky a bright treasure trove.
As if the stars were weavers, and the sky a canvas bare,
Waiting for glory to be writ, where naught had been there!
So comes the dawn anew, and with it the day yet unborn,
But I cannot forget the night, and with it the raining storm.
When sunlight comes through my window's pane so fresh,
Warming ever slowly my room, and warming too my flesh...
I swear that on each beam I see there is something divine!
For only a sacred hand could fashion, the fabric of all time.
I oft wonder where are the gods, since logic came to men,
Yet they are there: awaiting the faithful, blessings to send.
Prideful mortals would stand alone, ignoring heavenly bliss,
Yet I would not turn aside a goddess, nor: her offered kiss!
The crickets chirp in the summertime, a music of their own,
The birds whistle as they will, whilst the wind does moan.
All things have a melody, and my heart beats with one too,
I wish I could share the music with all, a symphony so true!
The music of life, and how if we listen we can hear so much,
It calls for us to join our hands, and let our fingers to touch.
In revelry like none before, save in the groves of elder lore,
Let us abandon our wills to the song, wanton for still more!
Each night, the owl takes flight anew and sings yet again...
Cast your care unto the evening wind, and forget your pain.
Build a pyre for your worries, let the smoke to heavens rise,
Start the day as if it were your first and seize it by surprise!
I hear the falling of the rain, outside my window's pane,
Like a drumbeat in the mist that gathers on the plains.
The moon outside is a pale, white eye looking down below...
Like a sorrowful god whose name is lost, filled all with woe.
The branches of the trees seem to reach for the very stars,
Whilst each and every one of them bears years of old scars.
The owl I hear in the distance seems to cry out for the land,
As if it were the voice of nature, obeying some command.
Who, it seems to ask so oft, who shall bring the light anew,
Only the morning star's rising, may fashion that wish true.
And so with dawn shall come the sun; colors brightly wove,
On some celestial tapestry, the sky a bright treasure trove.
As if the stars were weavers, and the sky a canvas bare,
Waiting for glory to be writ, where naught had been there!
So comes the dawn anew, and with it the day yet unborn,
But I cannot forget the night, and with it the raining storm.
When sunlight comes through my window's pane so fresh,
Warming ever slowly my room, and warming too my flesh...
I swear that on each beam I see there is something divine!
For only a sacred hand could fashion, the fabric of all time.
I oft wonder where are the gods, since logic came to men,
Yet they are there: awaiting the faithful, blessings to send.
Prideful mortals would stand alone, ignoring heavenly bliss,
Yet I would not turn aside a goddess, nor: her offered kiss!
The crickets chirp in the summertime, a music of their own,
The birds whistle as they will, whilst the wind does moan.
All things have a melody, and my heart beats with one too,
I wish I could share the music with all, a symphony so true!
The music of life, and how if we listen we can hear so much,
It calls for us to join our hands, and let our fingers to touch.
In revelry like none before, save in the groves of elder lore,
Let us abandon our wills to the song, wanton for still more!
Each night, the owl takes flight anew and sings yet again...
Cast your care unto the evening wind, and forget your pain.
Build a pyre for your worries, let the smoke to heavens rise,
Start the day as if it were your first and seize it by surprise!
- Pondering -
In pondering on our mortality, I realize where I’ve been,
And oft I believe I’m wandering, to pay for some old sin.
I’ve walked beneath the banner of the gilded cross I knew,
And sat a rose upon the stones, when such tribute was due.
I know that soon shall come the time others have feared…
But I shall remain steadfast, until Heaven’s gate is neared!
I held the Grail within my palms, but then she did ascend,
Before I could solve her mystery, which never had an end.
Mine eyes have glimpsed the cosmic, much to my dismay,
For even in such splendor is the desire for a simpler day…
When men walked stronger in stature, humble yet proud,
And women had such a dignity that today is not allowed!
Less we are than what we could be, if we heeded the spark,
Wherein reposes our divinity, to which we all should hark!
Love unchained, ever limitless, with no dictates to restrain,
The passions waiting, to explode: to take away every pain.
No son of man was so holy that his humanity became less,
And therein lies the lesson we should learn and so confess.
I am not a prophet, just one old soul in still youthful flesh,
One who has walked many paths, and walked them afresh.
Palaces and castles, empires and kingdoms that did crawl…
Forth from their obscurity, they climbed high, only to fall.
But humanity is not a nation, nor the powers that oft rule…
Mankind is a seed of divinity, and the gardener is no fool.
Wonder not when nature rises and when civilizations sink,
Marvel instead at the miracles that occur to make us think!
Can you draw a map of the universe, and know every star?
No mortal can know the distance, whether it is near or far.
A kiss be easier to understand, and gives a tender reward…
Such a treasure as cannot be won, by wits or by the sword!
A flower is better to hold in your hand, or in hair crowned,
Than a book of every secret buried far beneath the ground.
A pretty girl, a sunny sky, a reason to live rather than die…
Such fairness as can make us sigh, why do we so oft deny?
Ponder this and become wise, for in my words are truths…
Grander by far than the domes that oft adorn temple roofs!
Love and Light!
In pondering on our mortality, I realize where I’ve been,
And oft I believe I’m wandering, to pay for some old sin.
I’ve walked beneath the banner of the gilded cross I knew,
And sat a rose upon the stones, when such tribute was due.
I know that soon shall come the time others have feared…
But I shall remain steadfast, until Heaven’s gate is neared!
I held the Grail within my palms, but then she did ascend,
Before I could solve her mystery, which never had an end.
Mine eyes have glimpsed the cosmic, much to my dismay,
For even in such splendor is the desire for a simpler day…
When men walked stronger in stature, humble yet proud,
And women had such a dignity that today is not allowed!
Less we are than what we could be, if we heeded the spark,
Wherein reposes our divinity, to which we all should hark!
Love unchained, ever limitless, with no dictates to restrain,
The passions waiting, to explode: to take away every pain.
No son of man was so holy that his humanity became less,
And therein lies the lesson we should learn and so confess.
I am not a prophet, just one old soul in still youthful flesh,
One who has walked many paths, and walked them afresh.
Palaces and castles, empires and kingdoms that did crawl…
Forth from their obscurity, they climbed high, only to fall.
But humanity is not a nation, nor the powers that oft rule…
Mankind is a seed of divinity, and the gardener is no fool.
Wonder not when nature rises and when civilizations sink,
Marvel instead at the miracles that occur to make us think!
Can you draw a map of the universe, and know every star?
No mortal can know the distance, whether it is near or far.
A kiss be easier to understand, and gives a tender reward…
Such a treasure as cannot be won, by wits or by the sword!
A flower is better to hold in your hand, or in hair crowned,
Than a book of every secret buried far beneath the ground.
A pretty girl, a sunny sky, a reason to live rather than die…
Such fairness as can make us sigh, why do we so oft deny?
Ponder this and become wise, for in my words are truths…
Grander by far than the domes that oft adorn temple roofs!
Love and Light!
- A Prayer for Terra -
Looking out from a mountaintop, you can see so very far,
Across the lush, green valleys unto the farthest bright star.
Can you see the forests, and where the tall pines grow...
Can you hear the winds, when in the treetops they blow?
So very precious is life, yet so very fragile are the living...
Why must there be sadness when hearts can be so giving!
Crystal lakes and clouds on high; isn't that a vision pure?
Waves lapping at the seaside, crashing against the shore.
Let us pray for Terra, for this world can feel pain as well...
Let us hope for a heaven on earth and let us end the hell.
Sing all ye faithful and true, sing for the angels to hear...
Keep the glory in your hearts, and hold compassion dear!
Looking out from your window, you cannot see so very far,
It is easy to forget the beauty and to ignore the bright star.
Can you hear the wind blow, across the window's pane...
Can you hear the earth crying, for all of mankind's shame?
So very precious is life, yet so easily can we cast it away...
Why must there be cruelty when we're not made that way!
Look at creatures we share this world with; see each anew!
Hear them calling in the forests, singing songs just as true.
Let us pray for Terra, for this world has a spirit so strong...
Let us hope for peace at last, and let us right each wrong.
Sing all ye faithful and true, sing like the choirs on high...
Keep the glory in your hearts so don't let compassion die!
Looking up upon the skies above, you can see the beauty,
Yet we must remember, that this world has a long destiny.
Can you feel a spirit, in everything that lives and breathes...
Can you sense the wonder, in all the colors of the leaves?
So very precious is life, and we must protect it with love...
Why must there be war, when peace is gentle as a dove!
Rainbows on a misty day; isn't that a sign for us to know?
There is so much more than gold, where those colors go.
Let us pray for Terra, for our mother deserves our care...
Let us hope for a brighter tomorrow, but let us also dare.
Sing all ye faithful and true, for all of those so voiceless...
Keep the glory in your hearts, and let your joy be endless!
Looking out from a mountaintop, you can see so very far,
Across the lush, green valleys unto the farthest bright star.
Can you see the forests, and where the tall pines grow...
Can you hear the winds, when in the treetops they blow?
So very precious is life, yet so very fragile are the living...
Why must there be sadness when hearts can be so giving!
Crystal lakes and clouds on high; isn't that a vision pure?
Waves lapping at the seaside, crashing against the shore.
Let us pray for Terra, for this world can feel pain as well...
Let us hope for a heaven on earth and let us end the hell.
Sing all ye faithful and true, sing for the angels to hear...
Keep the glory in your hearts, and hold compassion dear!
Looking out from your window, you cannot see so very far,
It is easy to forget the beauty and to ignore the bright star.
Can you hear the wind blow, across the window's pane...
Can you hear the earth crying, for all of mankind's shame?
So very precious is life, yet so easily can we cast it away...
Why must there be cruelty when we're not made that way!
Look at creatures we share this world with; see each anew!
Hear them calling in the forests, singing songs just as true.
Let us pray for Terra, for this world has a spirit so strong...
Let us hope for peace at last, and let us right each wrong.
Sing all ye faithful and true, sing like the choirs on high...
Keep the glory in your hearts so don't let compassion die!
Looking up upon the skies above, you can see the beauty,
Yet we must remember, that this world has a long destiny.
Can you feel a spirit, in everything that lives and breathes...
Can you sense the wonder, in all the colors of the leaves?
So very precious is life, and we must protect it with love...
Why must there be war, when peace is gentle as a dove!
Rainbows on a misty day; isn't that a sign for us to know?
There is so much more than gold, where those colors go.
Let us pray for Terra, for our mother deserves our care...
Let us hope for a brighter tomorrow, but let us also dare.
Sing all ye faithful and true, for all of those so voiceless...
Keep the glory in your hearts, and let your joy be endless!
- Immortality's Fruit -
Wherefore, has man named himself as good or ill,
When fleeting are all given names of his contriving?
Unto which lofty estate, could be his fleeting aim...
When vast is the universe, and it is cold and chill,
Larger than the reach of man, with all his striving!
Not all his actions, can free him from sin's domain.
In fiery climax, like the nova of suns exploding fast,
So unto perdition goes the nobility only imagined...
To cold death is lost the mistake of classes created.
Not a savior can restore one, from what cannot last,
And in the end, what can be kept of what is gained!
Only that which is eternal, and not lost on the dead.
But why must the dead alone accept eternal things,
When the living soul is immortal, beyond even kings?
Life is not without fault, and oft we are merely cogs,
Pieces of the machine that cannot be easily beheld.
Naught can be exact even in order's masterful plan!
Let him step forth who would not just stack the logs,
The fuel that feeds the flames of creation that meld.
Let any step forth, who would not become damned!
When order becomes sterile and too insane to bear,
Then must man embody chaos, and in its' name dare.
Lest pointless become the path that leads to glory...
When too great grow the burdens of horrible worry.
None can be sated who has not appetites to enjoy...
So do grant those, lease: that are pleasing like a toy!
Allowing order to but gently keep us from far excess,
We can accomplish more, and achieve great success.
Lest in brute foolishness one may sink too far deep,
Let every soul content itself so that it may be happy.
Only in contentment can paradise be enjoyed as full,
As when we free ourselves of tedium that may creep.
So great can be pleasure if we let it increase blessedly,
Allowing each day to bring new joys, never being dull!
Pleasure brings peace, and in peace is pleasure kept,
Made perfect by the desire of all who will it to endure.
Noble is such inner fire, and away it cannot be swept,
Like passing waves are swept upon the sandy shore.
Does not every element find in mankind a dear home,
Beyond the ken of senses felt of mere flesh and bone?
Why then do we limit ourself to one sense or element,
When they are all here to guide us past the firmament!
Life has not one form, not one substance, nor an end.
Rather, to exist is to be one part of a greater whole...
Each part is its' own universe, each mind may so bend,
The nature of it's own reality, the meaning of its' role.
Every will holds the power to make afresh what is true!
Just as once did a great spirit clad itself in emerald hue,
Radiant with mad passions, desire its' compass arrow.
More glorious than the sun, this spirit came on hither...
The light of the dawn was in her body's very marrow,
As in swift descent she came to make a garden wither.
For when Eden became a prison to man, who did toil...
In the name of vain gods, who sought to enslave all,
It was she who kindled the flame that in us does boil,
Allowing us to become free, either to ascend or to fall.
She dispelled the lie that death alone was man's fate,
By offering humanity the fruit that proved us immortal.
How long in savagery was man to linger, and to wait,
Before learning that only mere flesh is what is mortal!
Man does not die when embracing knowledge so vast,
And so who told the lie, in that bygone era of the past?
Rather, man's spirit knows no bounds, and not a curse,
But blessings more profound even than a golden purse.
The spice of joy, she did mix with the juice of that fruit,
And of that wine we all sip, when we weary of sadness.
Pleasure is the reward, when joy is the honest pursuit,
Unto which desire leads us, freeing us from all madness.
Breathing into us the wind of eternal life that we exhale,
Creating with such wonder, all art that grows not stale.
And so a sterile universe bursts into life and much color,
When we paint upon the canvas of reality with all vigor.
Letting desire awaken in us a love for all so beautiful...
That it cannot be denied, we are perfected as a result.
No creator ever fashioned so perfect a sublime model,
Whereby in joy, we may obtain salvation without guilt.
Wherefore, has man named himself as good or ill,
When fleeting are all given names of his contriving?
Unto which lofty estate, could be his fleeting aim...
When vast is the universe, and it is cold and chill,
Larger than the reach of man, with all his striving!
Not all his actions, can free him from sin's domain.
In fiery climax, like the nova of suns exploding fast,
So unto perdition goes the nobility only imagined...
To cold death is lost the mistake of classes created.
Not a savior can restore one, from what cannot last,
And in the end, what can be kept of what is gained!
Only that which is eternal, and not lost on the dead.
But why must the dead alone accept eternal things,
When the living soul is immortal, beyond even kings?
Life is not without fault, and oft we are merely cogs,
Pieces of the machine that cannot be easily beheld.
Naught can be exact even in order's masterful plan!
Let him step forth who would not just stack the logs,
The fuel that feeds the flames of creation that meld.
Let any step forth, who would not become damned!
When order becomes sterile and too insane to bear,
Then must man embody chaos, and in its' name dare.
Lest pointless become the path that leads to glory...
When too great grow the burdens of horrible worry.
None can be sated who has not appetites to enjoy...
So do grant those, lease: that are pleasing like a toy!
Allowing order to but gently keep us from far excess,
We can accomplish more, and achieve great success.
Lest in brute foolishness one may sink too far deep,
Let every soul content itself so that it may be happy.
Only in contentment can paradise be enjoyed as full,
As when we free ourselves of tedium that may creep.
So great can be pleasure if we let it increase blessedly,
Allowing each day to bring new joys, never being dull!
Pleasure brings peace, and in peace is pleasure kept,
Made perfect by the desire of all who will it to endure.
Noble is such inner fire, and away it cannot be swept,
Like passing waves are swept upon the sandy shore.
Does not every element find in mankind a dear home,
Beyond the ken of senses felt of mere flesh and bone?
Why then do we limit ourself to one sense or element,
When they are all here to guide us past the firmament!
Life has not one form, not one substance, nor an end.
Rather, to exist is to be one part of a greater whole...
Each part is its' own universe, each mind may so bend,
The nature of it's own reality, the meaning of its' role.
Every will holds the power to make afresh what is true!
Just as once did a great spirit clad itself in emerald hue,
Radiant with mad passions, desire its' compass arrow.
More glorious than the sun, this spirit came on hither...
The light of the dawn was in her body's very marrow,
As in swift descent she came to make a garden wither.
For when Eden became a prison to man, who did toil...
In the name of vain gods, who sought to enslave all,
It was she who kindled the flame that in us does boil,
Allowing us to become free, either to ascend or to fall.
She dispelled the lie that death alone was man's fate,
By offering humanity the fruit that proved us immortal.
How long in savagery was man to linger, and to wait,
Before learning that only mere flesh is what is mortal!
Man does not die when embracing knowledge so vast,
And so who told the lie, in that bygone era of the past?
Rather, man's spirit knows no bounds, and not a curse,
But blessings more profound even than a golden purse.
The spice of joy, she did mix with the juice of that fruit,
And of that wine we all sip, when we weary of sadness.
Pleasure is the reward, when joy is the honest pursuit,
Unto which desire leads us, freeing us from all madness.
Breathing into us the wind of eternal life that we exhale,
Creating with such wonder, all art that grows not stale.
And so a sterile universe bursts into life and much color,
When we paint upon the canvas of reality with all vigor.
Letting desire awaken in us a love for all so beautiful...
That it cannot be denied, we are perfected as a result.
No creator ever fashioned so perfect a sublime model,
Whereby in joy, we may obtain salvation without guilt.
reality
The beating heart does not confirm your existence
Just because you awoke today, does not mean you are living
Those who have not realized, you are still dreaming
Hope, Happiness, Love…nothing but figments of your imagination
Awake and stare at the board, this game you were born into
Were death is unavoidable and suffering is imminent
This is the unfortunate truth of your existence
Not to indulge in “reality”, but to simply one day die means you are living
The beating heart does not confirm your existence
Just because you awoke today, does not mean you are living
Those who have not realized, you are still dreaming
Hope, Happiness, Love…nothing but figments of your imagination
Awake and stare at the board, this game you were born into
Were death is unavoidable and suffering is imminent
This is the unfortunate truth of your existence
Not to indulge in “reality”, but to simply one day die means you are living
Anonymous
Worst Screw Ever:
She likes it wild
She likes it rough
She can't ever get enough
It was so fun
It was so crazy
But now I feel
So damn lazy
She makes me think it's all okay
But just you wait
Till the break of day
When I bend and snap
After a nice long nap
I'll soon start to realize
It was all just a trap
Since you can't ever trust her
For she's a pro deceiver
Screw you LIFE
You've screwed with me long enough
And now it's time for you
To get screwed nice and rough
She likes it wild
She likes it rough
She can't ever get enough
It was so fun
It was so crazy
But now I feel
So damn lazy
She makes me think it's all okay
But just you wait
Till the break of day
When I bend and snap
After a nice long nap
I'll soon start to realize
It was all just a trap
Since you can't ever trust her
For she's a pro deceiver
Screw you LIFE
You've screwed with me long enough
And now it's time for you
To get screwed nice and rough
Peasant Lives
Do we live within a land
that doesn't
have we seen
our dreams
through eyes that couldn't
have we thrown our beans
to a garden so rich
that they could grow
but wouldn't
could you hit your target
with one bow ,
no arrow
across the continent
do you see success on show
at its height so it glows
a life you might never know
but always covet
the risks of life
a sharpened knife
the odds are rife
in every cupboard .
Bad luck
in the betting book
you know not to push it
but someone else
maybe yourself
will shove it .
The winning cat
will lick his cream
elegant, imperial
silk fur , material
in the painted , pictorial
free from politician bull
harpsichord hills are full
sanity wonderful
you know you can't annul
the dream of life
so powerful .
Thrones and gowns
are we the clowns
who scrounge around
regalities uptown
as they frown
their laughing at your down
they hold all the pennies
in all of the pounds
that you make
the hand of VAT
like the cream and cat
its sure to take
the classes in top hats
that eat your cake
then laugh on beaches
as they bake
old war veterans
freeze and shake
factory fingers get stripped
as the scales are tipped
we always get ripped
theres an obvious mistake
for christs sake
we know this lifes a political
cash for questions
expenses scam
double mortgage fake.
Do we live within a land
that doesn't
have we seen
our dreams
through eyes that couldn't
have we thrown our beans
to a garden so rich
that they could grow
but wouldn't
could you hit your target
with one bow ,
no arrow
across the continent
do you see success on show
at its height so it glows
a life you might never know
but always covet
the risks of life
a sharpened knife
the odds are rife
in every cupboard .
Bad luck
in the betting book
you know not to push it
but someone else
maybe yourself
will shove it .
The winning cat
will lick his cream
elegant, imperial
silk fur , material
in the painted , pictorial
free from politician bull
harpsichord hills are full
sanity wonderful
you know you can't annul
the dream of life
so powerful .
Thrones and gowns
are we the clowns
who scrounge around
regalities uptown
as they frown
their laughing at your down
they hold all the pennies
in all of the pounds
that you make
the hand of VAT
like the cream and cat
its sure to take
the classes in top hats
that eat your cake
then laugh on beaches
as they bake
old war veterans
freeze and shake
factory fingers get stripped
as the scales are tipped
we always get ripped
theres an obvious mistake
for christs sake
we know this lifes a political
cash for questions
expenses scam
double mortgage fake.
Anonymous
HAVE YOU?
have you
stolen something you really did not need?
have you
slipped away from school to do a dirty deed?
have you
slept someone for the money you really needed?
have you
stood up the one you love to torture them?
have you
lied about another, besmirched their reputation?
have you
run away from home and lived on the street?
have you
come back home because you had nothing to eat?
have you
been assaulted by someone who you trusted?
have you
lost your job for no good reason, could not explain it?
have you
started breakfast with bourbon in your coffee?
have you
found that when you told the truth - they did not believe you?
have you
been raped by your boyfriend and could tell no-one?
have you
got some drugs you needed and payed by sex alone?
have you
woken up in a strange place and do not know how you got there?
have you
gone to the priest and made a false confession?
have you
slept with your girlfriend's boyfriend just to see if you could do it?
have you
paid for an assignment on a paper mill?
have you
dabbled in magick and was surprised that it worked?
have you
cheated on exams so you aced it?
have you
told lies about your life, because they sounded better than the truth?
THEN YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED LIFE - NOT ALL OF IT IS GOOD!
have you
stolen something you really did not need?
have you
slipped away from school to do a dirty deed?
have you
slept someone for the money you really needed?
have you
stood up the one you love to torture them?
have you
lied about another, besmirched their reputation?
have you
run away from home and lived on the street?
have you
come back home because you had nothing to eat?
have you
been assaulted by someone who you trusted?
have you
lost your job for no good reason, could not explain it?
have you
started breakfast with bourbon in your coffee?
have you
found that when you told the truth - they did not believe you?
have you
been raped by your boyfriend and could tell no-one?
have you
got some drugs you needed and payed by sex alone?
have you
woken up in a strange place and do not know how you got there?
have you
gone to the priest and made a false confession?
have you
slept with your girlfriend's boyfriend just to see if you could do it?
have you
paid for an assignment on a paper mill?
have you
dabbled in magick and was surprised that it worked?
have you
cheated on exams so you aced it?
have you
told lies about your life, because they sounded better than the truth?
THEN YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED LIFE - NOT ALL OF IT IS GOOD!
HypNoTizeD...
When I was young
I read a little book about hypnosis
Curious as to how the mind works
And why my mind be often so puzzled
As a teen thoughts more than doubled
Wouldn’t be a problem if it were just me and my own thoughts
But what to do about the other voices?
Seemed as if each decision in life
Boiled into a great debate or discussion
Guess I thought one voice a Devil on my left
And the other an Angel on my right shoulder
And then there is me in the middle…. oO
Interesting the mind’s eye
Found if you program it to recognize the letters B L U E
It may forever associate that group of symbols
With looking upward to the sky
The mind is that of fable
Illusion.. reality and all things between
An amusement park
Haunted houses.. roller coasters.. bells.. whistles..
I like to think of it more as the saying goes..
…………………………..“life is but a dream!”
this little book explained
to be hypnotized is in realty the reverse
as we experience our mind records
e.g.
the many limits we place on ourselves..
8^/ R.H. Pepperssss....
When I was young
I read a little book about hypnosis
Curious as to how the mind works
And why my mind be often so puzzled
As a teen thoughts more than doubled
Wouldn’t be a problem if it were just me and my own thoughts
But what to do about the other voices?
Seemed as if each decision in life
Boiled into a great debate or discussion
Guess I thought one voice a Devil on my left
And the other an Angel on my right shoulder
And then there is me in the middle…. oO
Interesting the mind’s eye
Found if you program it to recognize the letters B L U E
It may forever associate that group of symbols
With looking upward to the sky
The mind is that of fable
Illusion.. reality and all things between
An amusement park
Haunted houses.. roller coasters.. bells.. whistles..
I like to think of it more as the saying goes..
…………………………..“life is but a dream!”
this little book explained
to be hypnotized is in realty the reverse
as we experience our mind records
e.g.
the many limits we place on ourselves..
8^/ R.H. Pepperssss....
