Monday, December 7, 2009

Four New Poems

False Love

Oh false love get back!
Thou knowest me not!
Sweet lips full of lies to the core.
Only one speaks true.
I will not be false loved.
I see who you are, though I may forget at times.
Fresh Eyes, be my guide for she lurks with thoughts to kill.




True Love

I cannot give you face, that is not fair.
You are formless yet you contain all I hope you to be—simply all that you are.
My love we shall escape time together.
For the threads of our love already stretch that gap between Dreaming and Reality…Now and Eternity.



Humility

I have broke the chains of pride.
I have been set free.
I was bound to death.
I was blind but now I see.
How good it feels to be rid of Hubris!
To be clean from the infection of arrogance and self love!
I feel at long last filled with joy and something else.
I could dance, I could sing…
Perhaps I’ll write a poem.



Sophomoric

Look at the words I write.
So affluent are my phrases.
Such eloquence that I write with.
How inclusive is my language.
Not just the academic elite nor the learned men and women, but those less fortunate.
See how I bring wisdom and the etchings of the sublime to the masses.
I know words and know how to string them together to say so much.
Packed it is in content and so much meaning.
Not a simple phrase will do.
I waste no words.
I write so that all may know.

Praise me, O praise me!
Look at what I can do with language!
See how I bring even the classes together!
Rich, middle and poor alike have access to my vision and words.
They all benefit and our species is enriched.
I do not write to keep knowledge contained.
Through me it is not owned only by those who own.
How horrible a thing to deprive a man a lesson, to keep a tool from him.

Look at my writing.
How it ebbs and flows!
I have such a large bank of words.
And how deep the meaning and how new my cause!
I shall unite us all and send us forward into the next generation.
For my words do not conform to patterns.
They do not echo the words of others.
I speak as though a person speaks.
A little child or a factory man.
I even write to save paper!
So much meaning in so little space.
Not one word wasted.

To those who sneer or miss my meaning--I weep for you.
Scholastica has made you a god.
It is sad that you do not see as I see.
But you may enrich us far better than I.
With words here not used.
Eighteen syllables each to say not one bit of anything.
I'll burn your books when you're gone.
I’m turning your world upside-down.
Rigid keepers of the way it is.

But nonetheless thank you.
Thank you for opening my eyes to see your sad ways.
Thank you for giving me the tools to force labels and separate others with my knowledge.
Thank you for giving me the keys to success.
Thank you for doing so much.
Thank you for your words.

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