Poems

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Poems

Change

Certain things vary everyday,

tides lap various portions of sandy gold

and land is illuminated and darkened

with clock like accuracy.

Like cammilions, hills and land

periodically display their transient colors

with no regard to its inhabitants

needs, preferences or even life.

Everyday change, insignificant,

expected and unshoking when it occurs,

no emotional distress or

even flickers of eye lids.

Those firecrackers of life, however,

sting with flaming relentless pain

as if being attached by legions of jelly fish

intent on wreaking havoc.

Like all wounds, the stings heal,

but not without hours upon hours

of termites gnawing on the brain,

infesting every thought with the jelly fish stings.

One asks, why must they experience firecrackers,

they didn't light the fuse,

why should they endure the relentless stings

And mind gouging termites?

Left or Right?

Crime, or right of choice disdained by others-

From different eyes, colors change and evils shift.

On the right stand pillars, stern, intrenched in dogma

drilled in from the crib, etched like the Grand Canyon.

In which evil is evil and good is good,

it is written, it is said and so it shall proceed-

What isn't broken in some eyes

doesn't require fixing-

Apposed, left winged donkeys flying

for an utopian dream

existing only in books fashioned by scholars,

where right is that which causes no harm,

choices aren't made illegal based on perspective

and not adversity.

As long as grey haired tablets

continue to decree antiquated perceptions,

no person, of any soil, con revel

in the exalted presence of true Liberty.

Reality

If ever there was an ambiguous word,

one which is entirely defined individually

it would be reality.

Where one person sees pleasure and serenity,

another sees blatant sin and sloth

and yet another is completely indifferent.

One hears the mention of god

and falls to his knees in obedient fear,

while someone else grimaces at the mindless dogma.

Viewing a santa figuring evokes

good memories for one

and rips through another with recollections of a

traumatic, life altering winter experience.

For everyone, different events and feelings

lead to a separate reality for all,

one's revulsion will always be another's pleasures.

Sentience

How grand a thing it would be,

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