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You poor fools!
Pity be upon you!
You are practicing
A dying art form!

Do you not realize,
That poetry is biased
Towards the literate?

There once was a time
When the scribes were
Revered as gods, but
Regrettably, that time
Has long since passed.

Now, we live in an age of
Constant, electronic stimulation,
Mediated by a steady flux of
Ready made imagery, where

Flashing lights and bright colors
Whittle away at the attention span, and
Destroy the capacity of the mind
To imagine for itself, so

Keep your word count low, and
Your syllable count lower, or
You just may lose your audience.
I'm drunk.
If God made man, in
His own image; he must be
A schizophrenic.
Still drunk. Will keep writing.
 Mar 2016 Coleseph Nelzsun
ryn
Is there love for another?
Much like this?
One's that unconditional,
unrestricted.
One so free...
That skeptical eyes would miss.

The beauty in such a commitment,
can't be quantified in greens or gold.
Unbound by petty materialism...
That jingles and folds.

It's invaluable...
Only to the ones who would see
and acknowledge it.
It's coveted only by those
who fearlessly dare
to embrace it.

So...

Strive for unconditional love.
For it is the greatest gift,
anyone could receive
and bestow.
For it will be the sun
that fires
the beats in your heart.
For it is the abundant glow
cascading...
From the moon's
limitless flow.
What beauty today
In a land such as this,
Spinning blue skies
Dizzy from twirling leaves,
Stars in the water
Shining like sunken treasure,
Loose trees shifting
And dripping warm sun down their backs,
And everything, everything alive.
What beauty today,
In this land
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