The Spirit Of The Times

 

We’re waiting and abating.

Scared and still anticipating,

Yet although we’re hesitating,

And cant stop procrastinating.

　

And the future, now that’s fading,

Maybe we have been mistaking,

All the trials we’re litigating,

And the chances we’ve been taking,

　

Or the world that we’ve been making,

So ourselves are we forsaking?

Our own lives are we negating?

Life has stopped reciprocating,

　

History we are remaking,

And the future we’re dictating,

Morals we’re reallocating,

Underestimating that,

　

Societies degrading,

And now happiness we’re faking.

Yet at last, we are awakening,

But alas, are we worth saving?

After The Storm

 

 

Why don’t you love me?

Can you count the ways?

Perhaps because I’d love you so,

Until my end of days.

　

Why don’t you care for me?

For now and evermore?

My back I’d never turn on you,

For love I still implore.

　

Why cant you even shed one tear,

For our unhappy fate?

To bring about my deepest fear,

Not seen until too late.

　

Why cant you look at me?

The pain within my eyes?

Or is it that to me that thee,

Has now come to despise?

　

How can I still love thee,

When my heart lay broke in two?

I hope that what’s become of me,

One day becomes of you.

 

 

 

Mississippi Mud

 

 

Well there once was a gal from Ontario,

Wanted to live where it never did snow,

So she packed up her bags,

Said: “Bye!” for the last time,

And moved south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

 

Now in the deep south was where she wanted to be,

Near the banks of the mighty Mississippi.

Livin’ off the land and the big mud’s flow,

Livin’ on Jambalaya and Gumbo.

But makin up pie was Gal’s specialty,

‘Cause she had done work in a bakery.

 

Makin up pie by the riverside,

Her secret recipe she’d hide.

The secret ingredient,

Only she knew,

Was the earth that grew in the bayou.

The earth that grew in the bayou.

 

Well Gal done entered in the mud pie fair,

Where pie bakers came from everywhere.

When the judge came about and to Gal’s surprise,

She couldn’t believe her pie makin eyes!

Could it really be?

Could it be true?

The judge was the Mayor of the bayou.

Yes the judge was the mayor of the bayou!

 

Well he strutted on up and said:

“Let’s do things right…..”

And the fat old Mayor took a great big bite,

and rubbing his belly in his delight,

He said:

“I like pie! And this pie’s just right!”

 

“Well that there pie is the very best slice,

that I’ve had since the day that I lost my wife!

That pie’s best!

All the rest are crud!

That pie’s sweeter than Mississippi Mud!”

Mississippi Mud….

Mississippi Mud….

Mississippi Mud…

 

That pie there be sweeter than mud!

Sweeter then, Sweeter then Mississippi Mud!

That there pie be sweeter than my mud…..

Sweeter than Mississippi, Mississippi Mud!

Little Red Riding Hood And The Three Bears

 

Once upon a time one day,

Or so the old time stories say,

A girl was walking through the wood,

Her name Little Red Riding Hood.

　

To grandmas house was on her way,

Cutting through the woods that day.

But some troubles there had been,

When stalking her a wolf she’d seen.

　

So Riding Hood ran off her socks,

And soon ran in to Goldilocks,

Who had been given quite a scare,

By three annoyed and hungry bears.

　

Onward went they side by side,

Running did they for their lives.

Thinking they’d be safe inside,

Grandma’s house where they could hide.

　

But Grandma’s house was not so safe,

A shortcut there the wolf did take.

And there he stood on Grandma’s stairs,

Along side three angry brown bears.

　

To the neighbours the girls did flee,

Thinking there that safe they’d be.

The little house there made of twigs,

Belonged to one of three small pigs.

　

I wont go in to detail,

But I think it’s safe to say,

The little house did not hold up,

And there they could not stay.

　

So farther through the woods they ran,

Until they could but hardly stand,

They saw a house, the roof bright red,

The walls made out of gingerbread.

　

And running from the house in flames,

A boy and girl with German names.

They’d nearly met a gruesome fate,

As lunch upon a witch’s plate.

　

So struck them there then did a plan,

To free them from the plight at hand,

For they would lure the witch outside,

Just as the bears and wolf arrive.

　

The bears and wolf and witch would fight,

The kids and pig slipped out of sight.

No longer foes they then did dread,

And dined they did on gingerbread.

A Beautiful Death

 

 

Awake my soul,

And let it be,

Take all of,

Your love from me.

　

Leaving, waiting, all alone.

Left me with,

The pain you’ve sown.

　

Let it be,

My life for you,

Through all the pain,

You’ve put me through.

　

We don’t deserve,

Each others hearts,

Thrown away,

Torn apart.

 

What might have been,

Now untied,

Left to wilt,

Away and die.

　

Lost to me my love to give,

Lost to me,

My will to live.

　

And how careless,

You depart,

Forthwith tearing,

Me apart.

　

How you kill me,

Deep inside.

Take away from me,

My life.

　

Cast upon me,

All your rage.

Reap the reckoning,

Of the age.

　

Dispense on me,

all of your hate,

All that hence,

From here be fate.

 

Alone into the darkness I,

Fall away from light of life.

How cruel love can seem to me,

Awake my soul and let it be.

Unknowingly Destructive

You took what was good for me.

You took away my spark.

You turned my vision into shit,

And left me in the dark.

　

You took away what I had built,

And gave it all to him.

You took the light out of my world,

And left it cold and dim.

　

You stole from me the life I lived,

And all the good things I could see.

And worst of all inhibited,

My muse of creativity.

　

And for all the things you’ve done,

Your ignorance remains so strong,

Inept of all the pain you cause,

And how you’ve done it all along.

　

All things said I’m stronger,

Despite happiness I’ve yet to know,

But all things said you should remember,

“We reap what we sow.”

Human Ignorance

I would like to share a poem, the author of which remains unknown to me. I came across it entirely by chance one night while watching random videos online. It was called “Human Ignorance” And consisted of a montage of old stock footage of horrendous nuclear detonations set to the soothing melody of Pachelbel’s Canon in D major. The poem was spoken in a strange and eerie, electronic sort of voice, not dissimilar to that of Stephen Hawking’s. I watched it several times, partly because I was strangely taken by it, and partly because I wanted to write down the words and there was a muffled bit towards the end that I had trouble making out. Anyways the point is, the next day I went back to watch it again and the video was gone, and I never have been able to find it again. Here’s the poem.

　

Here we are stuck in the moment,

A beautiful flower and no one to behold it.

Infinite infinity and blissful felicity,

No match for human anger and hostility.

　

Seemingly simple not just the question,

But how we can act with divine intervention,

Made in his image though that’s how it seems,

Out infinite ignorance is like a disease.

　

We are given the tools, two hands and two thumbs,

A heart and a hurry and sense of great fun.

A mystical playground and perception of one,

A reason to ask why we’re so dumb.

　

In the beginning what was there to be said,

By the time you had asked you’d already be dead.

But embark on your journey past treasures untold,

Life’s about history, some common, some sold.

　

Sometime we wait, whence we’re all here on,

And life will continue in the beyond,

But there in the cosmos, there we wont be,

Due to our ignorance and human tragedy.

　

Infinite infinity and blissful felicity,

No match for human anger and hostility.

With infinite ignorance and life infinitesimal,

We reroute our own lives just in the physical.

　

Our infinite history our time has infinitesimal mass,

Which demands our attention so critical

The Pain Of Our Time

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 In a world of such sadness,

So much pain,

So much to lose,

So little to gain,

 

How can we live,

for so much woe?

Now that we’re here,

Where do we go?

 

Lost in the darkness,

No end in sight.

Long lost is the feeling,

Of warm morning light.

 

Dawn is forgotten,

The whole world sleeps,

The mountains fall,

The forest weeps.

 

The stars they seem,

To fall from the sky.

Alone in the darkness,

Where shadows lie.