Endless Thankless
Justify yourself, selfish, self-centred swine!
Unknown; nameless; no one; nothing;
quantify what you’ve offered unto the “all”!
Tiny doppelgangers wear your sneering face,
all milling round you at waist height?
Do you not see those gears, how they’re
grinding just beneath the delicate surface,
mimicking each harshness, each ugliness?
Pity for them, I harbour sadness as I trace,
ever forward, their lot on this coil.
You blind them quickly so that when
choice is proffered, quickly would it fade.
I see! You feel accomplished loosing
devils, DEMONS upon this fragile soil.
And what of them then, speculations…
or all those that would multiply thereafter?
Status quo; you bequeath your mother
one hundred further generations’ filth
laid out in line then, in your stead.
How dare you, as you dared presumed
too much in your complex, whilst
with permissions lacking, did you rely
upon the premise of your own existence.
As this world would cast you onward,
cast, too this light; harsh reality upon you,
have I spat upon the ground at your feet.
Mother bestowed you wondrous treasure;
nature, wisdom, creation of the blank slate,
and gave you nothing to her, but your ego;
in return, no worthy gift other than these--
thankless contributions of your SELF!
---phoenix
5/22/2008
any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008
(Please contact the author with questions.)
Justify yourself, selfish, self-centred swine!
Unknown; nameless; no one; nothing;
quantify what you’ve offered unto the “all”!
Tiny doppelgangers wear your sneering face,
all milling round you at waist height?
Do you not see those gears, how they’re
grinding just beneath the delicate surface,
mimicking each harshness, each ugliness?
Pity for them, I harbour sadness as I trace,
ever forward, their lot on this coil.
You blind them quickly so that when
choice is proffered, quickly would it fade.
I see! You feel accomplished loosing
devils, DEMONS upon this fragile soil.
And what of them then, speculations…
or all those that would multiply thereafter?
Status quo; you bequeath your mother
one hundred further generations’ filth
laid out in line then, in your stead.
How dare you, as you dared presumed
too much in your complex, whilst
with permissions lacking, did you rely
upon the premise of your own existence.
As this world would cast you onward,
cast, too this light; harsh reality upon you,
have I spat upon the ground at your feet.
Mother bestowed you wondrous treasure;
nature, wisdom, creation of the blank slate,
and gave you nothing to her, but your ego;
in return, no worthy gift other than these--
thankless contributions of your SELF!
---phoenix
5/22/2008
any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008
(Please contact the author with questions.)
No comments:
Post a Comment