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Literature Text
In victory there is defeat
In joy there is sorrow
In perfection there is imperfection
In love there is hate
In wisdom there is stupidity
Everything is measured against the other
Within the confines of perception
Right becomes wrong
Dark becomes light
The limitless becomes limited
In the compounded vision
Reality gives birth to ignorance
Experience gives way to speculation
The known becomes unknown
In the great irony of things
The free become shackled
Truth becomes illusion
Such is the plight of the spirit.
In joy there is sorrow
In perfection there is imperfection
In love there is hate
In wisdom there is stupidity
Everything is measured against the other
Within the confines of perception
Right becomes wrong
Dark becomes light
The limitless becomes limited
In the compounded vision
Reality gives birth to ignorance
Experience gives way to speculation
The known becomes unknown
In the great irony of things
The free become shackled
Truth becomes illusion
Such is the plight of the spirit.
Literature
reincarnation
I am the child
I am the mother,
so much younger
and overflowing
You are the child
pushed from my body,
so much older
and suckling me
I see my death in
your unquestioning eyes,
rocking you gently
in the aftermath
I feel you enter
my unfettered soul
and I in turn
hear you crying for me
I am the cradle
that sways you still
assuring,
setting the stage-
To live again
as your offspring
while you bide time
till I am of age
Literature
I Will Not Be Hypnotized
I will not be hypnotized.
I will not be controlled. I will not be owned, I will not be confused. My mind will stay clear and strong, and I will remain my own man.
Your colored lights will not dazzle me. Your loud voices will not command me. Your images will not trick me, destroy me, and rule my mind. Crack into my skull and just try to take a hold on it, there is no grasp for you to find.
I will remain my own man, and I will not be owned.
Because I will not be hypnotized.
I will not be pressured.
I will not be forced, I will not be tricked.
I will not listen to the voices of the multitudes. Two and two is four, one and one is two. A th
Literature
Agnost/iction
Conversation. A weed, naïve and determined,
emerges from a rubbish heap of crossword clues,
shedding letters, leaking connotations.
…And yet.
Every phrase jumbles together, battles for space.
One wrong choice sets them all astray.
I am no stranger to the magic of language, but
is it better to place faith in no word than
risk the power of the wrong one?
…And so.
Ghosts of diction litter my page, leave
vapour trails.
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How we perceive things determines our reality - This poem was inspired in part by Lao Tzu...
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Comments24
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Profound and wonderful!