Is to ask...
The problems of virtue
Lent the total, of curious facts
Only the world, seems to offer a clue

A sneeze with no redoubt...
Promises of a smile that alleviate cares...
Silly stares of voiced concern, for a rational pout...
Shown persistence, that has a friend, which fares...

There is an echo in my way...
Simple senses of wonder to differ with?
Angels and is, not the secrets of witnessing may
Ahem, the order to a liberty's sunshine, is until bliss...

Poor, the psyche I imagine
Together, with a reason beyond saviors and gaiety
Anxious forces, have seen the soul of my austere plan?
Why is adding the guidance of roles, to occur with spontaneity?

Where has a quiet throe of light to the dread been?
We offer is a catch of solemn intent, that has
The turn of authority, for a sharing exist of lead, lent
To and from a heeding heart of simplicity, taken as times faster

Is retrospect, actual love?
Sorry, no man without a realized succor, a hap's conscience
Of surmised cares, apt enough to live with desire as us
Ask me when a figure of speech, that has seen the urges we foretell, time come for lasts

Believe, obey, fight-
Tow the party line!
It's a quick battle,
One waged against your own interest;
It's a sad case,
To watch men spit in their own face.
It's family, God, & country
And no room for the self.
Don't you care about your race?
How will you protect it?
What about your religion?
Enshrine it, defend it, spread it?
Of your state-
Bolster, boast, expansion?
Your God?
Your country?
Your family?

If the early bird gets the worm
then a late worm will live
but if there be an early bird
then there must be a late bird
and if so, the late worm will also die

QUSTIONS AND ANSWERS

Questions – like flowers that open
too early before the color deepens.
They enter and leave mysteriously
in a cloud of confusion, hanging
on the fates of life, safe from neither
bliss nor danger.

Anwsers maybe whispers in the wind
or the touch of a warm palm on a cheek,
a timpanic clamor or the sound of
untouched strings, a thought that
ripens slowly like a color that sets,
an unexpcted letter in the mail
or something unknown in the air.

A question is fragile between
good and bad moments, coming
and going, unfinished.

The answer creating hope
or undoing expectation,
a reminder of forgotten
feeling startling the heart
with strange happiness
or sudden fear, or a bell
unstruct, silent as white
moths against a screen.

Numerically perfect,
a flower is polished science indeed,
with petals that whisper the secrets
of the golden ratio's creed.

But a rose curving out
on the lethal thorns is indeed
no math, no logic!

a paradigm of solitude,
a monotone reprise.
she's desperate for a little break
to stop and shut her eyes.
a symphony of tragedy,
a prayer in disguise.
she walks her path so stoically,
but all their hymns are lies.
a disbelieving audience,
a concert of goodbyes.
she's desperate for a little break
to stop and shut her eyes.

Philosophy does

not help you to become learned --


but to be virtuous.