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Liam Dierl Feb 2013
A tear is shed
For those who are blind to the beauty of this world
Who can only feast on sarcasm, writhing in irony
        *It soon evaporates.
Pictures of a future dressed in ribbons and lace, cast off and burned
Pictures of the future carrying disdainful dystopia, infamous for invalids
Hung to admire in sublime distaste by those that seek knowledge
And see the repetitious antiquities of time that come to pass
        But others care not for plans and the imminent
Those that keep to the light of the gas
And carry the past to the present
Hoping for trends to try again, reliving what they had never lived
Laconic and loquacious in emotions and words
Against the gossip, but paradoxically
Pushing for the creation of their “ritualistic social Golgotha”.
Those who abuse the glory of their munificent, malicious mentality
Pathetically unable to procure authentic happiness
       A tear is shed.
Inside the recesses of the soul where emotions dare not dwell.
       It too evaporates.
Trapped in fear and the “cliched harlequin speech of suicide”
Begging for the masses to cast them out and find each other
       A tear is shed.
Never seen but felt as it evaporates.
Felt by those who envelop themselves inside themselves
Those who plagiarize their sick self-conscious souls
Those who bring about the very misfortune they strive to devour
Those who are effortlessly envied as they exploit their habitual recreations
       By those who wouldn’t dream of falsified euphoria
Those who bastardise and deface the name of creative individualism
As waters of the soul are purged and discarded
       They are felt by those
And are quickly washed away in doubt and regret
Keeping to the light of the gas, dangerous and warm
Obvious nod to Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" through the words of a whinier teenager from 3 years ago who got it stuck in his head and retrospectively highly dislikes the above poem's diction/syntax but feels obligated to post it for his freshman self's sake.
Luke Reed Aug 2010
These are the teaching of a peaceful warrior
Today, I saw three children burn, six buildings fall and nine families cry as twelve people died.
But **** it!
I’m western,
It’s all cool.
I’ve got drinkable water,
I’ve got central heating ,
I’ve got a National Health Service,
And an education from a proper school…
Regardless of the fact that I arsed about and played the fool.
I’ve got a sorted life.
And the most I have to worry about is an unloved wife,
Or monotonous conversations about other people’s strife.
But maybe I’m wrong?
Maybe I’m repressing the depressing parts of my day?
Maybe I should open up to the possibility that I am after all human and that it’s a part of our humanity not to like my next-door neighbour just 'cause he smiles funny?
But I guess that’s what we do.
We stigmatise, bastardise and anyone who doesn’t match up in our eyes.
So why don’t we stop?
Why can’t we feel safe from the cops?
Why can’t we trust the government to protect our jobs?
I think I know why…
‘Cause it’s a fake system,
Built on the belief that we’re all equal.
Well…
Some more than others.
And if you’re more well off then them,
Then **** your brothers!

So let’s start a revolution.
Let’s cut down pollution both environmentally and mentally,
Let’s free the oppressed and resolve this mess,
Let’s finally get off our chest the injustices of our generation and reform this nation based on equality, sustainability and chivalry.
Not bigotry, frivolity and humility.
And what of the military?
We make of them what you will,
But someone who volunteers to ****,
Is either messed in the head or run out of thrills.
But think of it this way,
A workforce of a hundred thousand strong,
Who may not be aware of what they’ve done,
Can transform this world both homeland and foreign.

Commit our military to sustainability.
If they want to serve their country then go build wind farms and H E Ps in plenty.
Still I know what your thinking,
None of this is realistic.
Especially now the economy’s sick.
And whomever we vote… We’re governed by ******!
So let’s turn over this government,
Let’s have a proper – civil – war.
But instead of roundheads and sabres,
We’ll strike and protest across cities and acres.
‘Cause the rich and powerful have no sway,
When the people who generate their wealth, get in their way.

But enough of my rants… what’s your say?
Copyright Luke Reed June 2009

www.soundcloud.com/beardblack/teachings
Megan Sherman Oct 2022
With aura of gold, as such inspires psalms
A beatitude which fretful, encumbered mind calms
I sing to thee, sweet moon, a luscious pearl
Which into night time throne ascend and twirl
Consists in this enigma rare, divine beauty
To which the sages pledge entreaty
All hearts swoon with music upon her sight
Harbinger of eternal delight
Sublime as a god paint with pallet of dream
She is all powerful and all supreme

O cherished disc of cosmic bliss
A rival matched to sunshines kiss
Inspires feelings suffice to be sung to lyres
A fixity in time and space that will never die, expire
Could ever I do justice to thy majestic spirit?
In words, nay, don't think I'll ever near it
Pearl in Heaven's clam adorned by sparks
In embrace of which we to the veiled realms embark
Thee borne of God's labour, testament to his passion
Which he begets in floods, not by ration

Gift me with your precious Peace
May thy blessings expand, thy love increase
Borne aloft on divinest wings
That inspires soul to soar and sing
Consist in you spirit blithe, like Shelley's coy sparrow?
Your healing light penetrates like arrow
Into heart and mind, begin to heal
For energy healing is self-evidently real
To intuition, not gray reason thine appeal
Wisdom not from facts but the truths we feel


Moon a sublime friend, wields and wends
A bounty of pure energy sages guard, forfend
Beyond mere icon, an authentic power
Graces with presence in the witching hour
Assist as we fathom depths of soul
To unite the heart with one and all
Upon thy beauty spirit roves
Frolics in thy treasure troves
I crawl under canopies in thy golden grove
A liberation as such the satanic architect loathe

For moon outranks the schemes of men
Who divide the world to the power of ten
Splendour of the cosmos reduced to sordid schemes
That dare to bastardise our dreams
A soulless empire which subjugates earth
In which evil breeds after it was birthed
A pearl defiled by rubber treads
Of men who rule with imperial heads
But her blood not blue, in fact it red
Peace the agenda to which she wed

In vain the tyrants suppress moon's song
For all their efforts her voice far surpass evil throng
The hearts of the witches are drunk on her music
Learning from her passion's rubric
A guru would revere her melody
To heal our sore and tender maladies
Applying salve to sullied spirit
Medicine more powerful than logic, wit
Healing that cross our hearts writ


Keep thy light alive my friend
Make the world whole once again
Next to thy shine illusion pales
An aura alighting Heaven's vales
A beacon of hope amidst deep treachery
That restores the faith inside of me
I may dwell among the ground and trees
Accustomed to the earthly breeze
But my spirit is still commit to moon
In which divinest beauty hewn

— The End —