Tags

[Another poem from a currently unnamed set. The original work was just the first two stanzas, but the others came as I worked on revising and rethinking the pieces.]

 

With Certainty I spoke a truth that I alone could see.
My voice was loud with trumpets proud before the silent three.
Yet rather than a chorus poured to mimic all I’d said,
An empty hall with all who saw, my worldview truly bred.
So stood I there with such a care, I looked upon my needs.
I saw at last where ignorance’ grasp, had grown up from small seeds.

Eternal Hell amidst the spell of all we hope to gain,
A fiery pit, your souls will fit, I’ll send them as I reign.
I’ll sit on high in cloudless sky, my dreams of what should come,
You disagree? Ha, I’ll fix thee. I’ll mock you to your grave.
My mind’s dead to all unsaid, alien and truth estrange.
Within my sight is all that’s right. Your dreams will have to change.

And there it rots, the strange worldview- rest well in purgatory.
Perhaps one day you’ll come and gaze upon me in my glory.
For gilded halls, or filth-stained stalls, depends on whom you ask,
But such the place I rest and face myself in solitude.
None wonder if I sweep or shift the grime of ignorance.
But all expect at least some speck of good-faith called “open.”

So obvious it might seem now that my life should just change.
Things would work out, were I no lout, but listened to the range.
Yet I can’t stop but wonder if the thought that is so closed,
Is also preaching open thinking to all who oppose.
Is my worldview just so askew as to forget its place?
Or are the lines of open minds the truth devils in red?

So back to start, your mind must move like piece upon the board,
A new theory from thoughts dreary, until some sense restored.
What, I move too and sit and stew upon the problem now?
No not for I, the task to try and create some real results.
I like the lie I choose to lead of intellect and grace.
Perspectives are so stuck and hard to move and then replace.

 

© 2013 R. P. McDonald.

Advertisements