Thursday, July 28, 2011

A Critic

Rosy-cheeked tickled pink
By outrageous cat-calls
By Dogs barking lascivious soliloquies
Hoping for pale moons to show.
I was there when it occurred
When the beast did prey on their predators
Coyly asking "Come hither"
Showing their tails
And running away.
The kittens run faster than the cats
Only to be caught twice as fast
Torn apart
And left by the side of the road
Wiser but still pitiful
The cats play with their preys
They know
That without proper and caring guidance
The dogs that hound them
Would be left chasing their own tails
Panting pathetically
So they play
And the kinder ones stay
And I saw it all
Locked up in my cage.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

The Selfless Sobs

I have this thing about smiles
Not a real thing thing, just a thing
‘Cause… well, there’s the thing
The Way of the World
How it was imparted to me
By those that I have assigned worthy of dictating
My petty actions
To do what you can for those that are of ill-fortune
Help to make prosperous the impoverish
Aid those that are aid-deprived
And while that’s all well and good…
What should I do with the rest of my time
When the world only seems to smile?
Make well myself?
But myself is no-self to make well—
I mean I’m perfectly fine
I am content with what is my and mine
So I ask again, what should I do with my time
When the world only seems to smile?
Make ill?
Make woe?
Well that would make the smiles cease
And relieve us from this banal peace
But cruelty undeserved? How deprived
I mean… I mean I know men aren’t angels
But does that mean they deserve the devil?
And by my hands?
Well, which hands but mine have yet to cast a stone?
But… no, no, to cause ill to save from ill that I’ll make
Such a… such a plague to the world
To decay perchance to preserve
The Altruist’s Sanity
Is Insanity

But I’m so bored.

Monday, July 11, 2011

A Female Dog Named Nostalgia

I’m drowning in my own nostalgia
Forgetting the present for the past
A Goddamn Nocturne
I make
Toward winters last
Where I shall eat stale bread
Sipped Curdled milk from a wine glass
To be
Adrift upon that cabin at sea--
The likes of which our fathers were probably born in
But Weren't--
Safe, alas.
After all I know what's there
And My memories could reform...
For after all if it was a wine glass then surely it was wine?
Why shouldn't I whine for what was mine
To forsake time
For that fresh bread and that sweet wine
That never was
Yet so vivid
Is it
In my memory

The day has not ceased
Yet that flighty king seems to have benighted me
To his court where the light can no longer lour’d overhead
And give my feats a rest

The Light
Which brings warmth and worn
Which seeks to remind me that my time is not yet done with me
“Do You wish it to be?”
“Of course not” said me
“Then wise up or I’ll take it from thee”

Such tyrannic rhetoric, I do not wear lightly
“Who are thee to tell me what is Right, [L]ight”
So I cast away that heir that keeps me afloat
And I drown
Forever Defiant
Tyrannical Truth