Now_______________________________
Life is so simple now
The wind, infenitely delicate lover
Blowing perfectly measured ripples
On the surface of the complacent water
Then, the waves were frothy with rage
Later there will be storm
Cast them out of my mind
Let the strand of time be a single gust
Turn solitude into solace
Let introspection yield inspiration
Make unity be the one truth
Duality is but a forgotten complication
I will stand up and the wind will change
Isolation will become an aching curse
And this is where I fail
As mere thoughts of then become now
And that is why the wind's embrace
Is thusly so in this instant al
Pointless?________________________
I can not rhyme
This I say for the last time
I can rhyme with the ease
Of an egotist saying "please"
"What's this I hear?" you wonder
"These suffixes he deftly affixes
Their consonance have little discordance"
So "Can he not rhyme?" you ponder
He who hunts and not consume
Hunts not at all I dare impune
She who swims with no destination
Merely performs mental masturbation
So if my rhymes abandon meaning
Their purpose is lost in the void
But if there's really a point to my meandering
Flaunting it, I try to avoid
So I maintain what I said earlier
But it may not suffer repetition
As that was i
Miscongeniality_________________________
Last night I met Miss Trust
But blind faith puts me on my guard
I made the acquaintance of Miss Use
Who wished to abuse me, and not well at that
Miss Conception was under the impression
That I was ready for parenthood
Miss Communication shared a lot
But I couldn't understand a word
Miss Interpretation was quite a performer
With too many liberties in her work
Miss Carriage had a coachful of stories
All of them ill-fated
Nothing panned out with Miss Information
Because too much is as bad as too little
Miss Fire had a blazing personality
But threatened to explode at me any time
Miss Guide
Confusion_______________________________
Is it genuine captivation
That compels all my attention
To be drawn to this philosophy
Or is it merely morbid curiosity?
My fleece is but one of my companions
Keeping me from the weather's variations
But as platonic as we remain
Is it wrong for me to wish for rain?
Rhubarb makes a strong contention
That bonding with its roots is perfection,
But with its poisonous leaves would only be cried
I say: who can tell until we've tried?
The bluebird may well be right all along
Certain of what its heart wants in song
But would it be abject impertinence
To point out it has little experience?
Does