Life Arts

No Sorrows - A Poem

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Sentient beings with sentimental feelings,
sent a semblance of societal worth
steeped in objectivity.

Project their holographic presence in the present tense.
Sense it? Frequencies taught and dispensed.

With a propensity toward paying attention,
it's a present wrapped in truth,
teaching you to fence your way through pensive worries.

The push quickly becomes a burning wick on blaze,
I rake in my soul to reminisce on my love for this maze,
where start is a birth canal and finish is
a shallow grave or cremated remains.

Repudiating serfs and knaves,
we fight for freedom here,
and create arms with slaves.

Land of the brave,
'cause it belonged to Native Americans,
and they were steeped in unison,
as a union in natural wisdom.
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Truth weighs a ton.
For those that can't lift it,
have every shade of skin feeling exploited.

A disjointed mess, the obvious blessing,
lest I look beyond my morals,
it's where there just is,
beyond bullshit quarrels is
where peace lives,
where the test taker becomes somebody's quiz.

It's puzzling business,
this cipher of sickness,
this emotional ineptness,
by refusing dialectics.

We could be powerful with our genius,
a powerhouse of heterogeneous hope,
that does not buy the bullshit.


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Much like politicians pandering, I am an enigma. Solving only my own puzzle. Maybe?

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