The flat earth is flatter
Than the ball earth's a sphere,
And what's all the matter
Is very unclear.
The world is a caper
That's made of illusions.
I use white lined paper
To draw my conclusions.
Giving joy, getting joy, never coy,
Often pretty, always called a toy,
She sells all that there is to deploy.
And there is she who is demure;
A teacher whose job is secure.
Some say that all teachers are pure.
And there is he who is a professor;
He is his father’s successor;
Just like his father’s predecessor.
The first one we call a *****;
She prostitutes her body more and more;
But the other ones we adore.
The professor prostitutes his knowledge.
He also sells his precious time.
And the teacher too makes the same pledge;
Especially while she is in her prime.
We all ******* something every day;
Yet only the first one’s a *******; yay!
...is the perplexity of the five...
...in the Animal Cell.
Acts of illusion,
Plotting the ways to be killed,
Dulled his sway in life-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
As I grow old and the lights are growing dimmer
I contemplate the life of me , a common sinner
I used to think money was the meaning of success
I couldn't have been more wrong to that I will confess
You can't make love to money, but many people try
It's for the love of money that many people die
The answer to this question is clearly from above
Take money from the equation and what you have is love.
Sitting in a waiting room with twenty other men,
All waiting for the good doctor to come; and then,
I notice, we’ve been waiting for half an hour;
Some worried sick, just sitting with no power
To help themselves or others in the room;
Just waiting; and although there’s no more room,
Another one enters. No! Sorry! A pair;
Yes! Most people come with companions who care;
Or, pretend to care, and seek relief here.
They say, “He’s always late. He has nothing to fear!
He is the great doctor!” But why is he late?!
Is he watching? Is he smiling at our fate?
Or, is he sleeping with some pretty goddess?
When are you going to come Mr. Flawless?!
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m right; but if I’m right,
We are all waiting for him to ***, right?!
Forget it. This room makes illusions shatter;
All helpless, no relief; but, does it matter?
He told me,
"You are a
that looks like
I told him,
"You are a
that looks like a
They told us,
"You are a
that looked like
The quoted lines in the first stanza are the lyrics of one of my favorite songs, "First Time," by DAY6.
I have frequent déjà vus, which i always mistake for memories which are mine or i've been through. reality can get so confusing sometimes.
Punctured are the lungs I've used for breathing
This seething ever-romantic feeling
The peeling of skin that reveals the concealed
And opens up the undying existence of the unseen
As my own existence is also undying and unseen
My mind and ego trying to convince me otherwise
This is my illusion
Intruding my mind and infecting it with disparity
And with no clarity of what is to come
I drown in fear that I will succumb
In the middle of Reality and surrealism is where you will find me.
Finding it may be difficult to differentiate.
Everyone seeks to find the way.
Asking for guidance might help gravitate.
Time has always taken it's time.
Causing detachment from everything, everyone even me.
Learning, healing and being is my aim.
Hoping we'll be able to digest the end.