Woe to the shepherd,
if his foe is his herd.
And damned is the sheep,
On a pasture they can’t reap.
Each day we groom little rapists,
Another fuel for those arsonists,
Ruling the realm of all realists,
Trading in the gluttony of egoists,
Housing all unconscious theists.
How alone can one be?
Looking around, one can only see.
Life is one big school,
Lectures are missed by the fool.
Indeed the friend is in need,
Wisdom in the foe only bid.
The whole world could be wrong
And not hear a word in your song.
For fear hasn’t a say
Where bare hands cut hay.
The masters wishes are His will
And only He writes down the bill.
We’re afraid so much of necessary failure,
Of what others think of us and of the future
And the past gone and now; just afraid.
We seldom show our consuming phobia,
They’re pushed to sub-consciousness, left there.
There they swell up and fester; being afraid.
Our hidden fears create a climate of anxiety;
Scarcely knowing why we’re afraid, it is insanity.
But still we live on like this, basically afraid.
With what comes where
And how follows when.
For the lost will ever fear
And the found never learn.
Faith lives and all own.
What’s seen is received
And again left all alone;
Like all believed, conceived.
The mind roams no course,
Thoughts feel their own way.
For many, their remorse
To others beacons a bay.
In the quest for source,
The search is the force.
Its hunger is blinding
And its timing, binding.
Many has sight failed,
More will lust then wish.
The senses boxes mailed;
Multitudes fed on their dish.
If mind had one more sense,
It will be its chosen thought;
Which is just another lens.
For faith, it has always sought.
Somewhere in all days;
Witnessed as is always,
In the morning’s blue skies
As in the night’s goodbyes.
It stops the singing,
Matches the hatching.
In its crawling time,
It bettered the wine.
With nothing to give,
It gives and yet deceive.
Wizen the ripened old;
Consumed and still sold.
Young the years grew
And gathered all anew.
Stealth gets its way
As age steals all away.
You are only young once,
Blossomed to take your chance;
To scent the worlds spring
With the fruit kinds you bring.
Found out amidst the threshing stones,
sort out of the cupboard of bones.
Where the situation was doctored
fell out that one not to be mastered.
Revenge consumes like any fire
and depends on sentimental air.
An action sought to set any aside
is vengeful if reason and sense coincide.
When anybody is singled out
the stone-casters dance about,
exposing ignorance and malice;
ironically with the drummers piece.
They always return like its shown,
Somehow better, on their very own.
When they were nothing, they knew.
And as they were begotten, they threw.
Just like such was predestined,
Man’s priorities shifts ascertained.
It was seen and again it will be,
Like again repeats all tides at sea.
They’ve always forgotten man feeds
Just like water kills and still it breeds.
Spend me! You miserable clot,
So I can travel, visit and just be.
Have I not uplifted all your lot
With my coming and swelling sea?
Ha! See what is talking here;
Another creation grown astray.
Has making you collect near
Lost its purpose as any way?
I have existed so long before,
Making many, long before you.
Hadn’t my might sown more
Fright in you than you’ll rue?
My fear of you doesn’t keep,
That is why you I do amass.
How trivial your might heap
Just like any furniture was?
I taste the air men breathe,
Inhaled in its life and gasped.
Hasn’t the ease I could knit
Warm skeletons all trapped?
I don’t lodge or host guests
And don’t burden any to host.
Haven’t I seen your requests
Send errands until they’re lost?
I plunge in a lake all humble,
Help will come and does drown.
Had not man’s urge so trouble
His lust for his own crown?
Then I’ve unraveled your plot,
So with me you’re ever sunk.
I’ll keep man’s own twin clot.
After all, arent you precious junk?
Truthfully none lives all alone,
But dead as alive all has none.
The words we are saying now, found us somewhere we know.
Our thoughts are always near, holding us captive right here.
Thank all the heavens for night time,
where will all mankind be without it?
Clarity praises all the days’ fine,
as all these many beautiful it lit.
Darkness had made procreation this bold,
aiding the naughtiness in all the shy.
Night makes ugliness the child of old;
daylight sculptures the beautiful sky.
Everything is chaos
that comes to a head.
Like life is not yours,
if it owns you instead.
The parent of logic
is simply knowledge.
What’s certainly tragic,
is all life is in bondage.
To avoid being quite sorry,
it’s always prudent to worry.
Not just for the tiny bit thing,
but to also laugh, cry or sing.
Good are also ugly and bad;
and can turn fair moods sad.
Most friends’re opportunistic,
indeed their needs are mystic.
Indeed one lie feeds off another;
birthed as a circumstantial primary
and waltz to formidable secondary.
Like tiny bites follow one another,
simple lies reduce sources worth;
deminish their integrity to nought.
Skeletons still in the cupboard,
are still new, across the board.
Just a step into the near past,
reveals old habits always last.
Tombstones mark old cruelties;
hidden, mean, untold mysteries.
Looks are most deceptive tools, lying to the most gullible fools.
Time never stops in its track;
It will grow, age, dry or fly off,
But never ceases, end or lack.
Each time rolls in its moments;
Strolling by in its miserly bluff,
Daring all to enjoy its torments.
Picture from @kc_clancy
We walk in steps, fits and starts,
Come and go like beatin’ hearts,
Pacing back, forth, yet onwards;
Winning battles, losing all wars.
Life drills all as an erring soldier,
Demands as needs never older,
For the future soldiers on bolder.
A large rich island just drags on,
Not for the size it must always hug.
The bulk of it lost the very reason
Why rich minds will make it a slug.
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Why will a big city of a ship
Sail oceans leagues in depth
And I sink in a pool as I sleep,
Like many tiny pebbles too wept.
I see no answer in practice
Or reason in their pattern.
Where a dream does surface,
There my sleep shows concern.