Poetry Page 4
The Low Road
my new path (the one I have always followed)
leads me to starlight,
to full moons,
Names give power
and naming my path gives me power
Now I know where I stand,
or at least the direction I am headed
I am not lost anymore.
even I, one who knows herself, begin to bend
its easier to resist a moment of apocalyptic pressure
than an eternity of slight persuasion
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,
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.
That's a lot of pressure on the human psyche
to manifest its desires and necesities,
I'm up to the challenge
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?
I do. I want to write like him.
poetry page 1