Whom must I give praise for these sights?
To whom shall I hail for all these delights?
For he has left great beauty
That crowds my senses and might.
If you were woman in disguise,
I might lay my head on your thigh.
But you are not bound, not held by a guise,
Nor at hand to bend to wills that are not nigh.
You are rough edges and fine dust,
Endless shapes that distract my eyes,
The endless scents my nose will trust,
And my ears and tongue dance to your wiles
But you are neither man nor feel like me,
You creep, you climb, grow and bear fruit.
You weather storms and manage yeast,
Then you wilt when you are at an end.
You take your time to leave us gay.
To be a home or a place near our homes.
You blind and act as our shade from lights.
You are the world – I greet your bliss.
Still not sure how I stare back at this lack
while held by chains of my own private torture.
Walls so wicked they’re leering back
at my helpless wails and tasty tears.
I made the choice to be this way
In blinding light that makes me sick
but why leave that Which helps me stick
the ways that keep me safe and let you stay
I once brought down Jericho with you!
Hammered down the walls holding me back
leaving debris of your indirect conquest
As a testament to your masses and dark religion.
I was impressed by what you did
So I sponged from you before my journey home
Watching your maturity date age in simple magnificence with awe
I begun wanting to make my ways in your image.
Forgetting my old haven needs its own beams and foundation
I built stairways measured in your grand heights going higher
and never considered they’d topple over.
Now my little dreams are there with My Lady called Future.
They’re in danger because My Mind Palace seemed sturdy and I was so eager.
Either I didn’t master or you’re just youthful banter
it doesn’t matter now, they’re gone and I’m a loser.
All I have for me is faith and a journey on the path to atonement
the place I’ll visit while bound by my fallen
their chains will make me stronger
and I’ll drag them while I punish my self to show you the effects of your way
from the sound of my pain
From my own private torture.
Hitlebb|Lebrecht © 2016
As I walk through the path of what WE CALL the world’s way
I see sewage that makes me cringe
in shame of how we exist.
We live with smut in our minds,
dust in our eyes
and junk in our bellies.
We accept no sort of prize for the mind
just a price to keep it limp and steady.
Shopping to keep it chummy
but no books to keep it happy.
How it’s ok to live on empty
and feel lost if you’re a worrier.
Living for the dream of “heart killing” wages
is the way, the truth, our lineage.
So we stain our vision
memorize all facts
and leave no room for much thinking.
It’s SO EMBARRASSING…