Spencer Zimmerman Poems

The martyr is currently forgotten
The One who stood before the church!
Before we built our theoretic lives
Looking into the eyes
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Attempting to hone myself in everyway
The passing generation patiently waits
And as a young man I look to the future
To see what will eventually be reflection
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A psychic told me I am psychic
And oh, how I had liked it
Bring me up Scotty, but don’t put me down!
For I fear discomfort whenever it is around
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Direct reflection of expectations
Lost in the static of creating havens
Like knowing the self through others
Would lead me further from blunders
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Spiritually in-tune
With life as the fitting room
Making sure this instance is met
With the dearest of my sentiments
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Experience accompanies my side
As we trot through stages of life
And when fearful failures press
I draw from within a deep breath
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Reap what’s wrought; it’s all we’ve got
Taxed again when the rake sweeps the lot
A good parasite isn’t revealed to its host
It would never dare to declare or boast
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To triumph veritably without diminishing clarity
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Deception, lust, disgust
Hands riddled with cuffs
Conception, dust, mistrust
Mind plagued enough
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