"waldo" poems
In the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in Spain.
Does it rain in Spain?
Oh yes my dear on the contrary and there are no bull fights.
The dancers dance in long white pants
It isn't right to yence your aunts
Come Uncle, let's go home.
Home is where the heart is, home is where the **** is.
Come let us **** in the home.
There is no art in a ****
Still a **** may not be artless.
Let us **** an artless **** in the home.
Democracy.
Democracy.
Bill says democracy must go.
Go democracy.
Go
Go
Go
Bill's father would never knowingly sit down at table with a Democrat.
Now Bill says democracy must go.
Go on democracy.
Democracy is the ****
Relativity is the ****
Dictators are the ****
Menken is the ****
Waldo Frank is the ****
The Broom is the ****
Dada is the ****
Dempsey is the ****
This is not a complete list.
They say Ezra is the ****
But Ezra is nice.
Come let us build a monument to Ezra.
Good a very nice monument.
You did that nicely
Can you do another?
Let me try and do one.
Let us all try and do one.
Let the little girl over there on the corner try and do one.
Come on little girl.
Do one for Ezra.
Good.
You have all been successful children.
Now let us clean the mess up.
The Dial does a monument to Proust.
We have done a monument to Ezra.
A monument is a monument.
After all it is the spirit of the thing that counts.
9.6k
My days are filled
With Quadratic functions
And Hydrocarbons.
I've had little time for
Billy Collins.
Or sleep, for that matter.
I'm thankful for the little
Moments like this.
When the professor can't find
His power-point.
Or a lunch hour where
I eat something besides text books.
I need time to reflect.
Find myself under all this stress
Take a breath and
Play a quick game of
"Where's Waldo"
With my soul.
Scribble some words
Or a picture.
Or maybe,
Just stare out the window
Contemplating the willow tree
And how her limbs struggle to
Kiss the ground.
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
I'm feeling kinda hollow,
It's a little hard to swallow.
Still Im in the lead,
So everybody follows.
Hate it all you want though,
There's no time to wallow.
tell me what you need,
You just found that ****
Waldo.
I don't even buy blow.
I just ****** snort it,
Gatta cop it from the *****
That always seem to hoard it.
know they can't afford it.
I Wonder how they scored it.
Then I took four hits,
Got drunk and stole a forklift.
I don't give a horse ****
I just want some more ****
Got weird for a
few days,
Brain fried till my
eyes glazed
Smoked a little
more haze,
Screamed **** the pigs ,
Got tazed
strapped on my rollerblades,
And streaked out,
the VMA's
I don't give a ****
Like a ******* Atheist
don't believe in luck,
Call me the ******* catalyst.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
Miss Nancy Ellicott
Strode across the hills and broke them,
Rode across the hills and broke them—
The barren New England hills—
Riding to hounds
Over the cow-pasture.
Miss Nancy Ellicott smoked
And danced all the modern dances;
And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it,
But they knew that it was modern.
Upon the glazen shelves kept watch
Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith,
The army of unalterable law.
6.1k
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.
Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
I am often under the impression that old fashioned street lamps
The ones with eight sided glass and black ornate poles
Are strategically placed by the city planning commissioner's office
To let me know the wardrobe is just a few dozen feet away
And it will take me away from this Narnia
If I just open the door
My phobia of opening doors gets worse every time I think I've finally found it
Only to walk right into the girls bathroom after lunch
On five alarm chili day at the cosmetology school in Little Korea Town
I don't like watering the plants
It makes me wonder why mother nature fell asleep on the job
But the plants are always telling me the rain can't get them inside my living room
So I started the fire that the insurance won't pay for
And the chemicals in the emergency sprinkler system killed the plants anyways
It also killed the fish
But the insurance adjuster wore gloves
So he's still alive
I would make a pretty ****** politician
I get upset at people who don't make sense
Though sometimes I don't make sense
I also have a bad habit of doing the wrong things for the right reasons
I have found Waldo three times
He says hi
Carmen Sandiego is in San Diego
Which makes that trip to Cairo a really bad piece of detective work
On a related note Al Gore is Captain Planet
And every time I hear a bug zapper
I think it is the bat from Fern Gully
But it is not
It's a bunch of dead moths in a box
Monkeys in a barrel
That's how my mind does things
Every time someone say "it is"
When "it's" would be acceptable
I remember The Land Before Time
"This is fun, it is, it is"
You are welcome
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
So I've been thinking lately
What if
he's on a journey out to find himself
reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond
smoking foreign cigars
and staring deep into coffee
to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke
that rise from it in the morning?
What if
he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life
or trying out a new brand of shampoo
or attempting to set a high score on Tetris
or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze
or doing volunteer work,
reading to disabled children at the local library?
What if
he's decided that this is all too much,
that he'd prefer to live in anonymity
trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting
or breeding exotic fish
or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles?
What if
he's tired of all those books in Technicolor
all the paparazzi out to get him
and commercialize his favorite beanie
just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office
thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world?
What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend
his dog
that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore?
What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network
and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations?
Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker
but doesn't know how?
Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family,
just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes?
What if he's decided he's on the wrong path
and needs to turn his life around?
What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:05 PM UTC
.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Walk with me n be my Friend:
fending oFF thee awful Qualm,
calming all the thoughts of Death.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Talk to me if no one Else.
"tell me what to do aGain?...
...death is gonna Haunchew."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall,
Waltzing in my ball of Hair;
share the Yarn of all you Bear,
spare the Rod n chop the Sheers.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
"Welcome to the slums of Hell."
help me Speak in bleeding Tongue.
"vi la Vita......vi de Vel".
Mirror Mirror on the Wall:
wall of Talking thought so Clear;
hear the Fall of waldo's Water,
thrall the Call of ocean Odlaw.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call my Bluff n cuff my Arms,
bar my Cell n sell my Soul,
sow the Seed n reap its Rose.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
flaunt my Card n guard the Door.
Youre the one im steering Clear of...
..."ofCourse you are."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all i Know is no ones Lost,
mossy Oak is all i Know,
frozen Walls i call my Home.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are ish ards of Glass;
lashing Out n always Laughing,
laughing as you watch me Ball.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Do is use my Tears.
here you Are with all the Cotton,
swabbing all my flaws n Fears.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call me what you always Do:
stupid Queer n weird n Ugly."dont
******* Tell me what to Do."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
talk the way you always Have:
Chanting like a ******* Trucker,
Cussing like a ******* Sailor.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Hollow be my only Name.
satan stole my only Halo:
angel of a broken Cross.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Follow me n see my View.
you should see what i have Saw...
...all ive seen is You.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are is all i Am.
have you not a ******* Conscience?...
..."obviously Not."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
walk a long this haunted Path.
after That if you can Laugh...
...so can I.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all youve Done is run n Hide.
'and Then...
...tyler was Gone.
was iaSleep?...
...had i Slept?'
- Jack's Medulla Oblongata
.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Where's Waldo?
I'm Waldo.
Hidden in the crowd
Silenced by the sound
I look like all the others
I speak like all the others
But even when I scream so loud
I can't be found
Where's Waldo?
I'm Waldo.
Do you see me now?
Do you hear me somehow?
I look like all the others
I speak like all the others
But even when I stand proud
I can't be found
Where's Waldo?
I'm Waldo.
Can you see my tears?
Can you hear my fears?
I look like all the others
I speak like all the others
But even when they look around
I can't be found
Where's Waldo?
I'm Waldo.
Hidden by the night.
Silenced by my fright.
I look like all the others
I speak like all the others
But even in the light
I won't be found
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
Association Footballer Ronaldo,
The new Wizard Waldo.
Oh what a fandango,
You bet he can tango.
Paul Butters
© PB 18\11\2017.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
Where in the world is Waldo?
He blends in the endless crowds that clog the city streets.
No way to turn, no way out.
Where in the world is Waldo?
He finds himself at a beautiful beach,
overtaken by a tidal wave of emotions.
Filling him up to the brim, to his full capacity.
Where in the world is Waldo?
Lost in the physical and emotional world.
Never to be truly found.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 3:22 PM UTC
I signed my life away
A week ago today
I took a pledge to be a warrior
To serve my country with pride
I am proud of this
I need not your approval to be the man I wish to be
For I will be my own
Traveling my own path
Finding my own me
I have finished the part of my life to try to impress you
To try and make you proud
I am done expecting you to be there for me
The cracks are too easy to fall through
I hope one day you will wake up from this slumber
We will talk about our lives while we fish for lost time
The bobbers on our lines dancing on the water like ballerinas
The man I am becoming
Ignoring the child inside
Screaming and pounding
For my daddy
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Walking Down the memory lane isn't always a good thing. I hope we all know that not everything good in the eye is actually Good. So is taking a stroll on memory lane is somewhat not healthy. What I'm about to do will somewhat heals each wounds and allow us to Forge forward. For every new friends I might have acquired this year might not know this but every year, I write a short essay on Christmas and give Hope for the year rolling in. How many of us have gone through the worst in 2013? If we are been asked to count, can we ( -_-) ? How many of us have gone through the best in 2013? If we choose we can write them out. Anyone who's misfortunes supersedes his or her Blessings or Gratifications, must sit back and work thrice so everything might be put in Perspective in 2014. One of the things I've learned last year is that; in life if we want something, one goes after it with prayers and supplications. If one never ask, the answer will always be No; and if one do not step forward from their comfort zone, one will always be in same place. I dare us to leave our comfort zone and acquire Faith and Strength. Christmas isn't all about gifts like Ralph Waldo Emmerson says, " Rings & Jewels are not gifts but apologies for gifts..the only gift is a portion of thyself", so I dare us to acquire Selflessness and give our whole to Christ. Life is made up of little things, this new year, 2014, lets start from the littlest things, pray, endure, keep God's word, forgive, have open arms, be patience and God will direct and put things in order. This way our Gratifications will weigh more than our misfortunes. I raise my glass, we've made it again! I wish us all a happy New month and Year...
Opemipo Oluwole aka Debola Oluyomi
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
I want to write a poem that politically minded would read more:
My political allegiance: my contribution to the art:
those Snakes in the grass would adhere too: without obligation;
The hidden agenda of the world leaders
Would suddenly, take the Sephora masks off
just in time to reveal what we thought of them all along;
Those voices of the babbling brooks: some louder than the other:
the poem must expose secret of the ocean mystery /myth
Without apprehending the beauty
of the dolphins and the whales legal rights;
While its uninvited guests are caught up in their lies
we the people must say to them
"you all can’t plead the fifth" because
They are still a lot of trivia question for us to answer.
And it’s still difficult task for some of us to find
where's waldo amongst the leaders:
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
maybe
there are earthquakes
in my skin. maybe
they hollow themselves
into the arches of my feet
and maybe i walk on rocks,
crumbling and cracking
under my toes.
maybe
i taste in color,
maybe i hear in
visions, maybe god
built a temple in my mouth
so its roof would fill my tongue
with the perfect words
to say to you.
maybe
heaven is not
shining white, maybe
it is green, i want to see
a forest when i get there,
i could never go an eternity
without a good climbing tree
and the breeze that blows
through my heartache.
maybe
when i tell you
that skeletons are
gorgeous, that
these empty bones
tell stories i can feel,
maybe you'll tell me
that even the corpse
has its own beauty.
maybe
you'll teach me
how to fish for crimson,
how to cast off my years
and be glad to the brink
of fear. maybe you'll teach me
what the Earth felt like
in 1836, maybe it was
a mystery, one not even
you could ever feel
working through your chest.
maybe
this familiar ache
inside my eardrums
is only my spirit
learning how to
listen
to the dawn.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
you are everything
you are everyone
you are every cliche
you are the sun,
you are the stifling heat
that cannot be escaped
you are valentines cards
misdirected and misshaped,
you are hotmail,
you are myspace,
you are my face,
hungover and exhausted,
you are lost kids,
you are something that was fun,
you are not getting shotgun,
you are beer
that's been in the sun
too long,
you are a sad song,
that's not been made better,
you are the hole in my sweater,
or my pockets,
you are the chalky sugar that's
passed off as rockets,
you are the first drummer of the beatles,
you are evil,
and i don't mean that jokingly,
you are choking me,
like turtlenecks,
or high stake bets,
made on the wrong team,
you are what seems like
a good idea at the time,
you are past tense,
you are jeans caught in the fence
preventing teens from sneaking in,
you are cold wind on a dry winter's day,
you are Coldplay's last two albums,
you are too much talcum powder
you are convenience store flowers,
you are forced,
you are hoarse
voices in place of song,
you are wrong,
you are the weakest link,
you are outdated references,
you are beverages,
that have lost carbonation,
you are hesitation
that leads to regret,
you are the new york mets,
you are first impressions
that i make on the elderly,
you are Beverly Hills Chihuahua,
you are foie gras,
you are aqua
and their music in my head,
you are cold beds,
warm beer,
empty freezers,
old tears,
fake appeasers,
new fears,
you are the moments
when it feels like no one's near,
you are searching for Waldo for hours,
you are any buildings "bigger" than the cn tower,
you are fake,
you are first date awkward silence,
you are last date awkward silence,
you are violence,
you are hybrid suvs,
you are bees,
you are black flies,
you are forgetting an event is black tie,
you are something nice to forget,
you are socks that are wet,
you are the slow driver in the left lane,
you are fame,
you are fleeting seconds
never to be recaptured,
you are the man on the corner
screaming about rapture,
you are actors selling out,
you are stains on a couch,
you are lost remotes,
you are failed attempts to save face,
you are everything
that has ever graced
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything,
you are love...
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
My sister loved sunflowers.
Anything worth loving in me died in a ditch behind a trailer park in northern Wisconsin. I’ve never been one much for talking. But I think I’d like to say something. I am all nerve endings. Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me. How dare you look at me? Keep your money, I come here to be lonely and broke. That is the whole point of me, you know. I’m like some sort of plot device the author chose to show how lost the human soul can be. I’m supposed to die horribly to teach you that life is short and beautiful or some ******** like that.
My niece liked pie. Not just any pie.
Pumpkin pie.
I could go on this whole speech about how you don’t know me. But I’m probably just as ridiculous as I seem. A stereotype confirmed. Go tell your friends you’ve found Waldo in the wild. It probably won’t happen again.
My mother collected angel statues.
No, I wouldn’t change anything. I’ve tried so hard to fix the people in my life. To fix myself. But my hell has made me complacent and I just don’t give a **** anymore. Spite is the only thing keeping me alive. Spite and Jack Daniels.
You know, I used to like to sing. Isn’t that interesting?
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
*oh waldo, waldo
where art thou waldo
people miss you near and far
my dear, are you hiding in a car?
i long to see that red and white
somewhere, in my sight
where have you been, where are you now
you've won your game, come out, take a bow
waldo, waldo
if you wanted attention, why didnt you say so?*
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Let's join a whistle band
And light matches with our teeth
Lets ask everyone when they lost track of Waldo
Cuz I havent seen that ************ since the 10th grade
Let's believe in all the superstitions
A little luck is what we've been needing these days
Lets eat sushi and climb on rooftops when we aren't supposed to
Just so we can look at the white lights and hope that the height will give us a little clarity
Lets ask long questions with long answers
And know that to talk you also have to listen
Let's watch creepy **** and wear socks with high heels
We'll be class acts till the day we die
Though not in the way everyone expects
Let's spend way too much time together
And cut through backyards in the snow
Lets pay for our café drinks in change
And ask for favors because we're close
Let's spill our guts and our laughs
Because you're the only one who gets me
Lets spell out words with pennies
And decide life in ****** thrift store dressing rooms
Let's cry and be sad
With the promise to be happy
And healed when the other is near
Lets rip up t-shirts
And change the radio in each others cars
Let's take a million memories
And expect the best out of life and gelato ice cream
Let's dry up flowers in the summer to look at in the winter
And wear too many rings on our fingers
Let's hang out with ******
And rent a red convertible for the summer
Lets read books and watch Mulan
And take walks and get together just so we can nap
Lets play assassins creed
And listen to Bon Iver (or Bone Eyever)
And take a break from thinking too much all the time
Lets join a whistle band
And light matches with our teeth Because all of this has meant more to me than a million everythings
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
I wanna run to you in an airport
Like they do in 90s romance movies
Because I miss you and
I’ve been away from home for two years
I want to sit on the beach and explain the landscape that
You know better than I do
In the language it was originally loved in, that
You never bothered to learn
Why would you?
You dip your feet shallowly
Into the water instead of dunking yourself
Like I do, down up down up down
Because you’ll be back tomorrow
And I’ll spend fractions of me
Waiting for a call or a text
For 20 bucks to send you
To breathe plumeria-scented air
From the oil on the skin of your neck
For a picture of the freckles on the webbing
between your index and thumb, and the ring
That I bought you before I left so that in the pictures
you post with your white boyfriend
I’m there on your finger
So when he’s teaching you the ‘local’ lifestyle
I’m there on your finger
So when you island hop for a surfing class
You keep me on your finger, where I can feel the waves.
I want to come home but I can’t, not before
I buy you a new ring, out here
in the empty expanse of a Where’s Waldo puzzle
It has to be
Something expensive, something durable
That won’t tarnish in the island
humidity, something that your
San-Francisco friends will ooh and ahh at
Because I want to see you wearing it when I get home.
I’ve been away from home for fifteen years
I return in my dreams, but the soil
doesn’t feel right, and the love isn’t how
my mother’s father’s father described it
At the beach, lots of people swim, but no one else
Keeps their head under and lets the water breathe life into their hair.
Lets the water into their mouth, chokes, then does it again.
But I like the way you
Dipped your feet in when you watched me
Leave, on a boat chasing Troy
Venus my northern star
As I enter the storm
My boat floats through the violence,
against Poseidon’s abundant will
because my sail made up of duct-taped exam scores
And half-organized sermons
Is mightier than any of his sons
I’ve been away since 700 BCE
But you’ll still know me when I come home
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 1:03 AM UTC
Look closely at your dots and periods.
You'll see this...
. Bob Dylan .
. William Shakespeare .
. Maya Angelou . Emily Dickinson .
. Ralph Waldo Emerson . Robert Frost . Ai .
. Max Eastman . Thomas Hardy . William Blake .
. Edgar Allan Poe . Pablo Neruda . James Joyce . Ovid .
. Carl Sandberg . Anne Sexton . Taigu Ryokan . Sappho .
. Ogden Nash . Dorothy Parker . JD Salinger . Rumi .
. Dame Edith Sitwell . Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly .
. Anna Swir . Sara Teasdale . JRR Tolkien .
. Alfred Lord Tennyson . John Skelton .
. Dante Gabriel Rossetti .
. Dylan Thomas .
Soul Survivor
2014
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Do you know when you're
walking through crowds
anywhere
and you look for
that one person
even when we know they are
not going to appear,
we still look.
I look for you
every where I go
even when I know I'm not
going to see you.
Thats when I knew
I would be looking for you
in a crowd
for the rest of my life.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
As you never bothered to return my Calls
I shall wait outside your door and watch
as you build the gates of wrath higher and higher,
The taller your fences, the longer your lines posts should be
The sea refuses no river;
whereas most men and women turned on each other
your actions, their words, their inner thoughts
Cyberspace is now a battle space
Keep passwords secret and strong my friends
The famous Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote
The poet also resigns himself to his moods
I shall wait outside your door and watch:
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
I am lost, and in a way where it seems as if nobody, no not even myself can find me. As if trapped inside of Waldo’s body, I seem to be striped left and right with endless wonder about how exactly I came to such a state. Not knowing how or even when it all started, I happen to be stuck in my own labyrinth of a maze. My mind trailing on endlessly, looking, searching for any and all clues, but like a virus, everything of sanity had been dropped along the way. It all just vanished! If being completely lost was a form of art, I’d be the founder of the movement, which would proceed not to be called expressionism nor surrealism, but more likely known as Davidism. In some way I managed to confuse myself, the ultimate da Vinci Code! Which tunnel to take now is all a matter of eenie-meenie-miney-mo, and to come out the other end with total understanding seems absolutely impossible right now! I am lost, and I don’t trust anyone to find me…
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Limits do not exist
They are creations of the mind
Time and Space do not exist
They are creations of the Mind
Fear on the ladder up the genome
Its every 2nd rung
And we can't seem to get rid of it.
Fear is the father of all destruction
Fear breeds ranks
Of Anger
Distrust
Paranoia
Violence
When faced with a radical new view
Fear does his dance
Hoping we will turn away
Or smash until comprehension is
No longer available.
Please check your number and dial again.
You have now entered
The
Void.
That place of Zen No-Thingness.
Here is the black where all colors
Are in the same space
At the same time.
Where there is no separation
One from another.
All co-exists harmoniously
And we consider the Dark side
To be the place of hell.
White is the absence of all color
Within it nothing exists at all
It is true oblivion.
And we consider the Light side
To be the place of heaven.
And yet
And yet
Fear declares that oblivion is the enemy
We must find any way possible
To become
Immortal.
(Dunt Dunt Duuunnn!)
Have you found Waldo yet?
We live in a paradoxical reality
Dictated by our Most Holy Lord
Fear
And His Most High and Mighty
Likes to keep us hiding in the dark
Longing for the light
While holding us in ignorance to the
True Nature
Of both.
Even when we glimpse it
If Fear gets to us before anything else
We turn our backs on the Truth
And try to destroy all evidence
Of its existence.
Maybe the way out
Is just to twirl
And keep twirling
So that Fear can't ever get into our view
And can't even get a hold on us.
Possibly the Dervishes have something
Going with their rites.
We would see
All
If we set our spirits
To twirling.
Don't worry about where
The music will come from.
The universe is already
Providing it.
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC