Is It Poetry
Our Right Mind
The title, I make first.
But then again the body can become the soul.
Knowing about nothing, which will follow.
Most here know.
Do you have an ego,
that is larger than the moon and does it glow.
Come and listen to the wind as it sings.
Then will you follow me,
back down the path, to where we started?
Where all go.
Don't be afraid, I think about the Judges.
Dressed in somber black,
and they are married to with children.
Like we have, I've shown you mine.
And she is ten.
If things don't change, I am not there.
I can deal with ignorance,
if it means that one can learn.
Stupid is the fire that burns the world.
Some hide and listen to the magic static.
Some can't sleep without the noise.
Of the past that some have made.
The future knows.
If I can't learn, then I have died.
A useless death that most have shared.
Sitting in the dark, it still makes noise.
Adults that can not say,
why they are still alive instead of dead.
Stupid silly sayings like the good die young.
Until the child is your's, no end of grief.
Being honest with your self will help you grow.
Telling lies about your friends, it's time to go.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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