Introspect

When your shadow floods the wall,
and shows your inner projection,
you can try and forget it all
in front of the mirror’s reflection…

Don’t let introspection
be your recollection
of a past reflection,
because,
there’s no need for deflection,
just an election of which section
of your mind you’ll use
as protection
against
the detection
of a new
introspection.

 

 

I’m A Lyrical Gangster – On Religion, Or So You’re Told

A Man and a Woman create a Life,
raising an infant with Faith to appease Strife.

With air to breathe,
the child has the breath to believe-
in the higher power that is Love,
we look to the sky above.

Stories passed from old to young,
behold the power of the human tongue:

Bountiful Gaia provides all we need,
from shelter to food in the mouths we feed.

Gratitude turns to Servitude,
make way for Greed,
up goes the value for the earthly seed.

Tools make weapons when there isn’t enough,
Death manifested sure makes Life tough.

A human falls, alive no more
Hope for revival turns into Heavenly Lore.

“Make Peace, not War,” some have said,
but nobody’s returned after they’ve been dead.

Death brings about Fear of Death and dying,
emotions collide,
there is Pain in crying.

Belief emerges in that which there’s no denying,
and Light is shown upon the face of Truth.

Truth be told, Truth be written,
Fear is the bug by which all are bitten.

Manifest Death, manifest Fear,
Hope and Faith make Angels appear.

You can be saved, if you believe
Life is worth living when you know how to leave
all of your Pain and suffering behind-
just be grateful, peaceful, loving and kind
because
after Death there is a better place-
full of Love, Acceptance and Grace.

And for those that folly from Truth,
remember,
Betrayal of the masses robs one’s Youth-
for you’ve been warned of a place called Hell,
where you go after a life lived unwell…

or so you’re told

It is Fear that strikes the mighty blow
into hearts uncertain of where they’ll go.

Social Agoraphobe

Against my mind,
these thoughts do bind:

Pairs of eyes, so
willing to despise.
A fleeting glare, could
push me to despair.

Pain, nay pleasure, it be-
to those eyes judging me.

Care not, I will, of such thought,
for it would make my being hot.
A bubbling sort of confusion
runs its course through such illusion.

A body here, a body yonder,
each one paused in place, to ponder.
Shifting through them in this maze,
my mind is freed from doubtful haze.

Villanelle Poem – Four Girls

Four girls dancing on a sheep’s knuckle bone
An umbrella of fog thick as oil
Twirling beneath the moon’s silvery tone

Their union a mixture of locks and lace
Tornadoing through haystack and soil
Four girls dancing on a sheep’s knuckle bone

As if by code their bodies embrace
Splitting then uniting back to a coil
Twirling beneath the moon’s silvery tone

The tang of rain maps the watering place
The atmosphere ripe with foil
Four girls dancing on a sheep’s knuckle bone

Yucatan flourishes upon each face
Migrants overcome with roil*
Twirling beneath the moon’s silvery tone

Their heels blasting the field with bass
Each chassis meandering down to its moyle*
Four girls dancing on a sheep’s knuckle bone
Twirling beneath the moon’s silvery tone

——————————————————
Per definition of The American Heritage Dictionary:
* roil – to be in a state of turbulence or agitation
* moyle – a kind of high shoe anciently worn