Self Promotion
Most who are born, sit upon a throne;
there’s simply no mistaking;
their place is destiny, for them, alone;
a throne, of their own making.
All were created for love and devotion;
most become held in pride’s jaws;
many remain dedicated to self promotion;
our egos
The Scientific Method
The scientific method is just a name;
like a university’s worthless title;
such foolishness is never germane;
it shall never become truth’s rival.
Running all thoughts through a maze;
by those exceedingly aloof;
only result in a mist and a haze;
not really amounting to
Reality Closing In
We live in a realm with perception’s conclusions;
deceived by its sounds, and sight;
for reality was brought about by light’s illusions;
its death appears in the night.
Within our minds, we are unable to conceive;
the truth of a world of light image;
only
In The Master’s Mind
I’m but a thought; in the Master’s mind;
a mere hint of God’s complexity;
I’m wondrously wrought and designed;
becoming what he wants me to be.
Sometimes, I’m laughter; brought by a clown;
there’s no limit to what I
The Weight Of Memories
Many say their troubles weigh heavy on their mind;
as though they’re a physical entity;
it would seem, thoughts are weightless, by design;
since thoughts are a form of divinity.
Thoughts all emanate from a consciousness;
they are its life and breath;
troubled thoughts are
Rest In Peace
During a funeral; it seems most ironic;
as though all tensions, it’ll release;
a statement, counterintuitive and iconic;
the minister declares, “Rest in peace!”
It seems foolish; as family members cry;
the casket, carried by somber faces;
not a member of the family, has a dry
For The Love Of A Woman
For the love of a good woman;
men have chosen to die;
once her tears have spoken;
even strong men cry.
There is never a sacrifice too great;
when two hearts suddenly meet;
when two like minds commiserate;
even hate shall face defeat.
A
…From The Mind Of A Poet
The mind of a poet, is an open book;
exposing truths, a soul would hide;
allowing, everyone to take a good look;
at the deceptions, lying hidden, inside.
All poetry is a form of elite mystery;
tho often melancholy and somber;
restructuring accounts of
