The Hairshirt – a poem

A dark force plays with abandon tearing apart your soul; you cannot admit that

your legacy is blackened and unripe fruit. Treading on it yields neither wine nor juice;

Bottled up, it festers into logic and reason that must needs be denied.

Assumption of superiority helps sooth the waters of turbulent reason while

The bile and fear lap at your toes, calmed only by casting your eyes towards heaven

It is a test you must pass, denying qualms, signs and portents, extinguishing candles lighting the path

Your hair shirt, your denial of the senses; as you cook and then bite into the sadness which you feed

to your child who inherits the fear and the pain wrapped in a bright shell of promise

The Hairshirt – a poem

Logic (a poem)

All I can say is, don’t get into an argument with someone who is both a total git and a philosophy major. It will end in your own tears of frustration.

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If only you could in anyway be
Even half awesome as me
Taking to me is a such a pleasure
You’ll want to do it at your leisure
Check out the fantab things I write
If you don’t agree, I’ll know it’s spite Continue reading “Logic (a poem)”

Logic (a poem)