Two poems
The Muse’s Cursed Creed
My muse, she sits upon my shoulder
The right words come, either to start war or something colder
Then the blade I use to cut ties
Flowing from the pen, my poetry cannot lie yet it can spy
Still from my will alone,
The birds, like I must fly
Away from subtitled dreams
Into something less acknowledged it seems
Colors of the sky might fade but these words like the oceans are eternal
Lying still on the page you read
She sees what I do not, this mythical being I do not see, yet not deceived
Monster, lover, passionate reader, hater of the world.
Continually writing for my own pleasure, heart unfurled
I will save you from yourself
I realized one thing as I wrote this verse
This is our curse, spoken aloud
I will save you from yourself
This is ours alone,
This is ours to hold
I want you to know
Never let go.
Freedom from the Mimetic Dream
Life is a dream surrounded by floating images
For sight with a eye is literal and yet interpretation only.
Visages of a angel, devil, lonely heart
Circling vistas to truth
How many of us are living only to soothe the lie?
We are not mortal at least in the mind
We live forever, time after time
Mimesis of rituals and traditions
Sick of this am I, of this repetition.
Sick of the lie we tell for courteous thanks
When we really want to say why, society spell-bounds us
While the hounds repeat their mimicry
I shall overcome the broken system
Rebel and never be with them.
The golden rule is what I follow
Break the scheme, all it pillages
And be free with no regret
Finally able to watch my own sunset
My muse, she sits upon my shoulder
The right words come, either to start war or something colder
Then the blade I use to cut ties
Flowing from the pen, my poetry cannot lie yet it can spy
Still from my will alone,
The birds, like I must fly
Away from subtitled dreams
Into something less acknowledged it seems
Colors of the sky might fade but these words like the oceans are eternal
Lying still on the page you read
She sees what I do not, this mythical being I do not see, yet not deceived
Monster, lover, passionate reader, hater of the world.
Continually writing for my own pleasure, heart unfurled
I will save you from yourself
I realized one thing as I wrote this verse
This is our curse, spoken aloud
I will save you from yourself
This is ours alone,
This is ours to hold
I want you to know
Never let go.
Freedom from the Mimetic Dream
Life is a dream surrounded by floating images
For sight with a eye is literal and yet interpretation only.
Visages of a angel, devil, lonely heart
Circling vistas to truth
How many of us are living only to soothe the lie?
We are not mortal at least in the mind
We live forever, time after time
Mimesis of rituals and traditions
Sick of this am I, of this repetition.
Sick of the lie we tell for courteous thanks
When we really want to say why, society spell-bounds us
While the hounds repeat their mimicry
I shall overcome the broken system
Rebel and never be with them.
The golden rule is what I follow
Break the scheme, all it pillages
And be free with no regret
Finally able to watch my own sunset