Ephemeral isn't beautiful unless it's beautiful and beautiful.
And beautiful isn't this unless it's this.
And beautiful.
And Literature is the water in the ocean,
as the ocean gathers sunshine for Grandfather, who is beautiful.
Grandfather is the man in the ocean who was there.

Those who gather literature this autumn in the ocean
are not beautiful and are not men or ephemeral men
nor are they there in the ocean with Grandfather,
but are beautiful for Grandfather - but fleeting.
This lollipop is fleeting but also not a toy.
It's a lollipop.
It's this.
This is not a toy lollipop,
but was a lollipop when Grandfather was a boy and beautiful.

Does nothing matter?
Is matter nothing but dancing shattered galaxies pushing and shoving each other?

And on Earth, is it worth thinking?
That I'm just a piece of eternal dirt thinking that I'm just a piece of dirt thinking?

We're all just stars, tasting humanity for an instant.
In all its fallacies, we're systems of suns that love ****** without resistance.

With the assistance of Christian values and armed pistols.
Harmful as ignorance is blissful, we're still missing the deal.

We're still ******* away the real position to feel. We're still wishing down the same ol' wishing wells
and hoping to Christ they're real.

Worse than guns, it's the waste of freedom -- It's unequal -- to **** the hungry from a distance is still evil.

I fly atomically and everything else is informal.
What's normal? Where's God when things get so awful?

He's epidermal - like an antigermal lotion. A magic potion to nurture the thought that we're important.

We're all just stars, answering a call to be Human.
Let the cold bars that hold the others down remain open till my life is dormant.

And our heads are still cluttered and cloth covered.
Filled with an age-old confusion straight from ol' Mohammed's cupboard.

They fool us with cooked messages from book passages that preach love.
Scare us into being apparatuses of a God above.

That's why society is shattered. It's what's wrong with the world.
The perennial infancy of thought that's forced unto our boys and girls.

Such unclarity, that's baked into our childrens' recipe. It's insanity to think that we don't just turn back into energy.

I'm not religiously inspired to forgive,
nor have the insidious desire to live to inspire religious permittance.

I prefer a future purpose undiscovered.
A death dimension still covered from religions' crazy buffer.

You

You know not what you're doing,
You drift, in ways of abstract design,
You give false impressions,
Of things deeply untrue,
Oh God,
I wish that you weren't you!
You are anonymously sweet,
Portraying that you're bad,
When in fact,
You're really sad,
Full of lost delights,
Everything is wrong,
Not much is right!
You found the right one then,
It melted, lava bursting,blood ripples,
You get judged in ridicule,
By all who surround you!
In you're life,
They all confound you,
You want to fit in and fall in love,
But all around you,
Astound you.
You are not a frog on a leash,
To be toyed with,
Nor one who wants to play,
You are a person!
You have a heart,
A heart which sustains and nourishes,
Protects and cossets,
You have dark secrets,
Running through cold veins,
A brain of creations,
Your thoughts run deep,
Still waters they say,
You have to hold them everyday,
Black as night is,
As white as pure is,
All you want is love for sure,
Do you know your name?
Do you know who you are?
Full suit of armour protects naked soul
Falling deeper into a hole, daily,
You are me, and I am you!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)