Poetry Page 4

The Low Road

my new path (the one I have always followed)
leads me to starlight,
to sunrise,
to twilight,
to full moons,
to skyclad.
Names give power
and naming my path gives me power
Now I know where I stand,
or at least the direction I am headed
and so...
I am not lost anymore.


Tunnel Vision

swallowed whole
even I, one who knows herself, begin to bend
its easier to resist a moment of apocalyptic pressure
than an eternity of slight persuasion
eroding
undermining
corrupting
wearing down ideals
finally you lose your innocence
you start to believe in your own destruction
you finally see the darkness at what you hope is the end of the tunnel


Why don't you smile with your eyes?

Are you afraid you'll wrinkle,

crack your mask?

worried that if you pause

your constant disdain

those below you will revolt

and rise up

until suddenly you're on the

same level they are.

I was reading this clip of Sidharttha and it struck me
the moment he knew himself he was alone
so alone he was inside looking out, at everyone else
and instead of being full
he was so empty
if I realize my self
does that cut me off from everyone else?
is it worth it?
if our whole lives are spent seeking,
what will we do when we find?
it would make you purposeless,
wouldn't it?
are we meant to unravel the mysteries?
and here I am trying to do it again.
well finders keepers
and the rest of us will just go to work,
soccer practice, and grocery shopping
take that, wisdom.
I am a fool, and hope to stay that way.


The Placebo Theory

If you believe in it, it will work

Gods, Goddesses, good luck,

the innate desire in mankind to do good.

Placebo?

Its possible…

That's a lot of pressure on the human psyche
to manifest its desires and necesities,
I'm up to the challenge
Are you?
Sure you are,
Just believe in yourself and you can do anything


Just like him

I want to write like him.
He has no pretense,
nothing to prove
He tells it like it is.
Did he sit,
pondering in an overstuffed chair,
and write his musings?
Or did he steal scraps of paper to
make into jewels
Using his pain to create beauty?
Who knows?
Who cares?
I do. I want to write like him.





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