Poems about Reality
Do you know for certain that others exist;
perhaps, they’re only thoughts on the mind;
consider those senses of which you consist;
is it by them, that reality’s defined?
Neither of your eyes really see anything;
they only allow light to flow in;
So, just what is it,
How is it that thought becomes
a picture upon the mind:
words transformed to pictures;
with thoughts all left behind?
How do nothing but simple words,
fashion, brand new illusions?
Such is more than patently absurd;
pictures are thought’s conclusions.
The mind is not a picture show;
but it
I set out to create a perfect day;
for such is always my goal;
follow my Lord in every way;
for such is meant as my role.
But mind can be a cantankerous crank;
especially, in the midst of depression;
all of the positive thoughts go blank;
and the mind
Seems I’m spending my life; just waiting;
nothing at all, is going on;
spinning my wheels, pontificating;
all night, till break of dawn.
My words no longer carry much weight;
though my body certainly does;
no more do I take part in debate;
my words, no longer bring pause.
Why must we look over our shoulder;
looking back at yesterday?
We’ve all become a little bit older;
and now has become today.
Why is there an allure to the past;
when Summer’s already arrived;
sorrows and failures never last;
and, so far, we have survived.
Why linger
…Where have you gone, oh loves long last?
How quickly the present becomes the past.
And all those thoughts that I hold dear,
transformed into memories, a sob, a tear.
You left me here for a place called there.
In earth no more is found your lair.
This physical place,
Certainty has very little patience;
in hesitance’s warm embrace;
there’s little time for reticence;
as tyranny stares in your face.
Frustration’s found at its height;
as much of majority is wrong;
mediocrity’s seldom found right;
and majority just goes along.
Great comfort is oft acquired;
even
Thinking back throughout my years;
reminiscing about all that has been;
assessing all of my laughter and tears;
I wish I could do it over again.
Surely, it seems, I could have done better;
so very many mistakes that I’ve made;
I wear my past, like an undersized sweater;
