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Do Not Be Like Them

Because they're losers

who prove their worth to the world

—like birds without wings

Monterio this is your conscience channeling in.
As you hold this pen I'm forcing my will for you to write how I feel.
I'm very happy you found your inner peace.
Exercised your demons as a instructor of tranquility.
I'm not shock about your abilities.
Keep chasing your dreams.
But..
Don't forget who got you started here.
A teacher named Tina Moore.
Made you want to explore in this poetic world.
Told you to enter that contest and you won honorable mention.
That was your first poem you'd ever wrote.
That's proof you've been blessed with a trait.
Hope it opens many gates to great success.
Just remember don't put too much stress on you and me.
If there's a problem confront it!
Don't run from it!
I'm sure if you do it'll destroy you and me your conscience...
Now Monte commence to your writing session.
Chase your dreams because I'm believing in you.
That's your blessing and don't you ever question it.

MIND, THE CULPRIT

Weird longing took me afar inducing my uncanny behavior;

Garrulous friends made me downcast and plunge into eternal sin;

Couldn’t desist my discomfiture and put up a façade; but

My comrades jabbered my pretext and questioned my venerability.

Implicating challenges, insecure utterances and unacceptable behavior,

Made me feel innumerable deaths; notwithstanding,

I sneered and bawled my incessant kicks;

Though, pestered by good sense, I tended to pose insouciance.

Loafing about, I rummaged still, for a paramount life;

But uncertainty and peskiness made it tedious all the more;

Failing to attain a glorious life, with a perturbed mind,

I swapped thoughts so as to restore my benumbed sense.

But the raging thoughts, day and night, and round the clock;

Brawled against my conscience; and it got settled finally;

The convulsion of mind scrutinized my conscience; and the verdict was,

Not to allow my mind go scot-free, as it ignored my conscience!

Appalling though; yet, my mind got to oblige what was inevitable;

Had it responded to my conscience, at times of trouble,

My life would have been aglow and reached a level of paragon;

And I would have quipped, “But for my conscience, I’d have had innumerable deaths!”

 At times, we decide to do what we should not,

 Relying on our own conscience,

 And tilling every single thought,

 Accepting as true that we possess finer intelligence.

Is our conscience always right?

 A million dollar question,

 Busying us day and night,

 Giving birth to yet another tension.

Charley, Willy’s ‘second conscience’, did breathe in reason,

 Alas! Miller's Willy, divorcing reality, dived further into the nirvana of illusion.    

The Hallow Space

Upon entering the hallow space, I cannot help but feel battered and defected
Staring into the nothingness, wondering why my emotions remain scattered and uncollected
My mind weighs heavy and my heat continuously tearing
Struck down at every turn, getting to the point of despairing
My conscience screams and cry’s as if I am unaware
Begging me to weep alongside it, releasing my pain and utter despair
What was here is now there, what was strong now met its grim demise
Now here I stand, spectating, as another part of me quickly dies
The pain of being here is almost unbearable, as I must depart
Slowly turning back leaving another foundation to inevitably to fall apart