human condition

Conditioned By The Human Condition

 

...and aren't we all, in some, at least, small way?

 

Some,

so much more than others.

It's in our destructive nature

to step away from what we should nurture-

For Mother Nature's bosom

is only so vast

and could use some assistance.

 

Humanity is certainly

suckling dry

her life-giving sustenance.

Leaving her wrinkle-sagged

and barren of her babes

lost in these clearcut woods.

 

As we turn blind eyes

And deaf ears

To the blind, the deaf,

as we hurtle over the lame,

to get our better place in line,

are we now no better

than those we have judged?

 

Are we so robotic and quixotic

to the point of our failure to see

that in the changing of time

we are becoming more and more

-conditioned,

by the human condition?

 

 

 

 

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Indifference

It was a hot day, I think,
as I watched the spider eat the fly.
Someone else may have turned away,
or killed the spider and set the fly free.
But not me.
I watched as the spider ate the fly.
As I ate myself.

war of wordss

Folder: 
OBSERVATIONS...

I write under some small delusion,

that you would want to see

me bare my soul and that my soul

is full of colour and wonder,

that I could some how venerate your being

with Some spark of creativity

magnified to a whole new status.
And I wrap myself up in this warm delusion

It helps me sleep at night,

I feel better about the world

even a little less lonely, at first...

Because then you're driven by some constant compulsion

to draw out the emotions.

You plot and plan words

and the schematics of affectations.

The tiniest hopes spur you on

through endless trials and drafts of perfection

not yet in words perfected.

You stretch your minds limits

you seek new boundaries of thought.

You while away hours forming possibilities

based on a line that becomes the hook.

You become the friend of empathy.

Seeking to somehow bring a voice to others pain.

All the while selfish and conceded

it is merely a means to an end.

The is no torture greater than this discipline of arts

with such limited tools to drive a wedge of emotion

through the eyes and drive to affect the mind

to cause a heart response that reaches the soul...

I please you.

This is my delusion

that sparks the wars of many wordss.

Fighting for the chance to venerate me.

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