Ascension
Is a king so different
From the subjects in his realm?
Does he not need to sleep or eat
When he is at the helm?
Does he not fear nor feel the pain
That every human knows?
If strong why does he need support
From underlings below?
So wherein is his kingdom
But as ours inside the heart?
For if ourselves we master
We ascend the throne apart
Divine Favor
The man cursed like a sailor
But when he went to church
His demeanor was different
Though piety besmirched
The whispers of hypocrisy
He humbly endured
And prayed “Please God forgive me,”
“Though unworthy of your word.”
The refined patrons snickered
Casting jibes behind his back
Yet soon after he left
The lightning hit the chapel--Crack!
Counter Culture
I felt like such and outcast
Then found those that felt the same
We poked fun at the social sheep
And our own clique became
I then began to alter self
And give into concessions
Till bit by bit we turned into a group
Of grand pretensions
Whenever we draw circles
In the sand of our relations
We create a false barrier
Which thwarts illumination
Behind all social trappings
We are pretty much the same
The petty things that separate
Are man made to our shame
Divisions limit freedom
Which can impede heart’s dictates
For even proud aristocrats
Limit their choice of mates
Joe Public
What is this crackpot’s story?
Who does he think he is?
Sometimes he’s kind and quiet
Sometimes noisy and pissed
I never know what to expect
What makes this sucker tick?
Sometimes he wants to please me
And sometimes could give a shit
I’ll tell you all a secret
To discern the truth of soul
It lies within one’s motive
To bless or to control
If we want souls to love us
We alter all to please
But when we love them more than self
We do what’s best for these
Expressions of true love
Do not define such as pure pleasure
A parent scolds a child
But no ally could be better
For you to know this average Joe
And sentiments here subject
Consider what is good and true
And disregard Joe Public
Fragmented
When in his room the door locked shut
He’d come out of his shell
Expressing all he had pent up
Like breaking out of jail
He’d look into the mirror
And sing like rock stars on TV
He’d standup to the bullies
And impress girls joie de vivre
This pent-up alter ego
Would express both light and dark
Exaggerating things repressed
Their contrast being stark
For when he left his room
He was quite quiet and reserved
Conflicted by desires
Between reticence and verve
The private self does not always
Express the truth of soul
Unless the psyche fragments heal
We can’t claim to be whole
Release
My parents told me to “grow up”
My friends said I should “lighten up”
I’d like for them to both be pleased
But feel I’m cut off at the knees
My party said to voice opinion
Professors said I was their minion
It’s hard indeed to know my mind
When polling in a double bind
My children said I work too much
My banker told me not enough
To balance a check book isn’t hard
Compared to weighing both regards
My boss said that I was a winner
My priest told me I was a sinner
I asked myself if it were so
My conscience simply said, “You know.”
“You chase opinion in the wind”
“Yet rarely think to look within”
“For peace of mind you must appease”
“Your own heart to obtain release”
Enmity
The poor man forced to kiss his ring
Bit off the priceless jewel
The enmity between them
Life’s inequity had fueled
Yet both were full of bitterness
Of hubris, and greed
Though they expressed it differently
The same flaw was beneath
The poor man only thinks he’s less
When coveting such lucre
And chronic affluenza
Spawns a soul impoverished neuter
Yet those which know immunity
From envy and self-doubt
See not themselves superior
Nor inferior throughout
Home Work
Are we our formal learning?
Our intellect but fixed?
Our ceiling a diploma?
Home education nixed?
Are women told to mind the things
Of house and home alone?
And men instructed to aim high
And academics hone?
Are ethnic segments channeled
Into schools with a blue collar?
While others are compelled to join
Dad’s Ivy Alma Mater?
The forces that would stifle minds
Are overcome with ease
And come at a clear bargain
Charged in late library fees
Polarizing Politics
There is a social sorting
Divisive and fallacious
Which forces choice of right or left
And mingles these mendacious
It’s hard to isolate the grains
Which finally tip the scale
For each soul prizes different things
And weigh minute details
It’s not always intelligence
Nor clash of good and evil
It’s not always firm certitude
Nor discontent’s upheaval
If any think they have a bead
On political truth
I have a plot of swamp land
At a bargain absolute
A soul so caged in politics
Shall judge others unfair
But how the tables turn
When of the Self, they’re made aware
Denomination
A child of God is beautiful
Variety is wide
As vast as all creation
Not narrow like the mind
If the Creator made all things
How dare we criticize
The differences herein ordained
And view ourselves in pride
What is this need to tell ourselves
Our belief's solely right?
By doing so we damn our own
Identity thereby
For we are more than sect or creed
These do not bequeath life
Nor do they fix obedience
Thus self can’t circumscribe
For though each soul is special
No partial love applies
The sun rises on every soul
And rains descend alike
Leaving the Nest
A family molds and nurtures
And provides a great support
Identity of members though
It can at times distort
The makeshift pecking order
That is present in the nest
Can long outlast sparse relevance
And progress can repress
A soul must spreads its wings
And leave such stigma in the past
For those that soar to heaven
Must release useless ballast
Outcast
The tomboy was a vital soul
But didn’t quite fit in
And so she sought belonging
In the outcast social fringe
The boy was called a pansy
Cause he liked the finer things
The pseudo macho posturing
Seemed absurd to his being
The brutal treatment he endured
Proved he was tough as nails
But all he ever wanted
Was for kindness to prevail
Multiple Personalities
A person must play many roles
Upon the stage of life
From diction in the boardroom
To the dialect of jive
From daddy’s little baby
To the leader of her peers
From playing coy in front of boys
To politically austere
From piety on Sabbath
To partying at school
We play our part, and act our age
According to the rules
The situation dictates
The persona to the player
But who can find the real self
Hidden under many layers?
The Bond
I spent the night in dreamless sleep
Awoke recalling nothing
Of hours spent in mindless rest
And then I thought of something
Does self exist in waking?
Is it constrained in mind?
Where does it go in times as this?
How does one’s self define?
Something endures, Something remains
Something of self spans time
When memory banks of mind are closed
And brain itself unwinds
How can awareness download
And deposit in the vault
Of mortals great encephalon
When thought grinds to a halt?
And yet the self stands vigil
And waits until the dawn
The spirit willing--flesh so weak
To forge soul in the bond
Uplink
What if each brain were made the same
And interfaced to each?
We’d share our thoughts and memories
Our ideas and our dreams
We’d also share delusions
And confusion, and disease
And share each hellish nightmare
As a virus in the breach
And what if we could uplink
To the Omniscient mind
Would neurons overload
And crash synaptics as designed?
And what of our uniqueness
And our individual choice?
Would soul be self-determined?
Would the novel find a voice?
These questions I considered long
And then the virgin mind
The freshness of beginnings
And the purpose of this blind
For each brain is self-programmed
To a great extent we find
As Providence decreed
The soul could modify design
