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Megan Sherman Jun 2017
Our hero of the earnest era of Romance,
Doth dream, dwell and dance in divine dalliance,
Commiting Heart to solidarity and alliance,
With the revolutionary atmosphere of France,
Optimism for change doth have him in trance,
A liftime took to perfect philosophic stance,
Meandering aimlessly cross Earth like child,
To apprehend the nature of the freebirds, the wild,
Rancorous, with passion riled,
Of Nature's Beauty most beguiled.

Counting the confederacy of poets as friends,
Towards brighter day they weave and wend,
Humankind's sublime destiny they dare not forfend,
So to revolution they duly lend,
Their timeless and rumbunctious pens,
To show the world through inspiring lens,
They're enamoured of its darkling dens,
Where inspiration from the ether sends,
Visions suffice to be immortalised,
In the poet's pithy cry.

Poet evokes the stirring herd,
Rebelling against tyrant's rule absurd,
Shaking off oppressive law,
Which the righteous mind does abhor,
Revolution befits a troubador,
Enamoured of freedom's wild old tour,
Transcribing her beauty in to lore,
Wsidom older than ancient war,
Wisdom that's the friends of sages,
Wisdom felt, not learned from pages.

Paying heed to impulse, feeling,
The troubador is a devotee of passion kneeling,
Feeling Love through their heart freewheeling,
A feeling which is most appealing,
With their verse they want to spread,
Their passion like a golden spindling thread,
Going soft with gentle treads,
Planting flowers in human heads,
Daisies with Love's light imbued,
Converting sunshine in to useful food.

Emigrating like the flower of the Jacaranda,
The fledgling Shelley lives to bloom and meander,
Defying the tyranny of propaganda,
That doth against the soul deceive and slander,
So towards a bright Eden he takes a gander,
Towards iridescent, bright, immortal hour
Where the mannacles of the mind,
Are crushed by Love, activity refined,
The spread of care duly kills,
The hate bore grim from tyrant's thrills.

The world becomes unite again, and not in the imperial way,
But in the way all souls are friends, and borders die and go away,
The world is a bright, clean canvas,
Ready to take a splash of art,
Coloured bright with the idea of heaven,
Imagined from hungry human hearts,
Lo, the death of illusions fake,
Like wealth, through which the devil spake,
Arise, ye children from your mistake,
Off your ******* like feathers shake.

Peace grows strength in every line,
In which a future free doth shine,
The path of righteousness aligned,
To hitherto deceived and corrupted minds,
In a dream of heaven they duly find,
A fate to which they want to be intertwined,
That of a human herd that wakes,
To be freed and liberated from its mistakes,
To die standing than live on their knees,
To take war to tyrants dictums and decrees.
Megan Sherman Dec 2015
A yarn of angels play, loose-braided
Blazing wings have dawn blockaded
Devil's duplex dance undoes their knots
Ropes their oath has plaited rot
Mannacles enslave perception
Realms of sight dulled to a dimension
The fallen world a ruin, grim
What are you doing seraphim?

We must throw off this darkening curse
Feel the irrepressible light of the universe
Yield to the cosmic flow of love
Make peace on earth, as above
Heal the agony of a world,
Then Chaos which has now unfurled
Will be compelled to give its' way
To reason's day and harmony
Megan Sherman Apr 2017
May my Heart take solace in the seed of every child's own cosmos.
Every child hears the stars, and shrieks with joy at the rainbow,
That beams from heaven just to regale the babes of the world.
Those that play at wisdom sully the child's worlds with lies, because the truth doesn't sell, deceiving the soul and self of worth.
I wish I could traverse the valleys and fathom the stars that are the topography of child's cosmos, under that cosmic canopy, that mystical frontier;
Beyond which we can comprehend its truths so strange and queer,
Where Creation makes butterflies of her children and frees them, Love sets Hearts free from mind's mannacles,
Nay no child quarrels with the rainbow.
Megan Sherman Oct 2017
A tyrant's sham, illusion most uncouth
Betrays the people of Beauty, rare forsooth
People's wisdom doubted of its truth
When they the gift of Heaven duly hath
Forever incurring petty tyrant's wrath
The mannacles descend, and maim the mind
By devils with pretence they're so refined
They lead the lovers, whilst their own hearts blind
Freebirds sense direction of the wind
Sweet soar! The tyrants languish, left behind.

From immemorial time their lies assailed
Lady freedom, from whence the war cry wailed
See the lawmakers bring justice to her knees
Captive on their island on jaded seas
Too callous and remote to take her pleas
To breathe free air, stunning by degrees
But people will her return, to their shores
Her heart so irresistable to adore
Her triumph sweet foretold in ancient lore
Lo! The victory, the end of war.
Artur Sep 25
Let’s go to the moon
Sail upon these ancient currents
We can try, baby;
See by the moonlight.
The sunlight is imposing
Tyrannical
Almost burning

These mannacles are rusted,
Do you see?
We just ought to try
And break on free
Into the cool night

See?
Do you see, baby?
I really ought to, uh,
**** you
No, I mean feel you

This ship is safe
It only crashed last time
And before that too
But we’ll be all right, baby
You just wait and see

Yeah, all the way to the white goddess
No, I’m no captain
Only a sailor
Sailing to the moon.

— The End —