The times of now

These times are made by man alone

Of hate and anger to own us

But we do not the sinners atone

And sin dwells on and man does

For care we not of pain and suffering

Of truth and love and yet

Be whole or so to seem and sing

For true this lie is set

And blossom as before but does not now

The freshness of human spirit

But to crime and wrong does this slave bow

The captive of sin a woeful spirit

And blood so greatly sought that gives life

obtained it is by slash and shot

This cursed world so full of strife

Has neither path than that of rot

And when it seemed that love does bloom

There lay in store a moment after

Of woe and lust of truer gloom

That makes us hope a bleaker

And yet we’re urged to pray and forgive

To cry and weep and be fulfilled

And finally free no longer captive

To inherit the peace to us willed

Then with grace this earth will fill

And one shall greet another

With brother hood and then instill

Faith in us, in all humanity.

The Moral

Time in its path doth deal you a blow
but in all sincerity surely deserve it not i
yet to the mind life in reality does it show
yet comprehension of that is what pending lie

so in confidence in self i stride
not realizing the need of humility
as work of my hands i bore on my side
dejected and depressed i stood in simplicity


i knew stories of sorts were many
thought toi me they were but a fable
and solutions i sought but weren't there any
for was too late already too late to be able

oh indeed it was only in preparation
for after chance doth come chance
to be able to stand further humiliation
and to learn a war like stance

to the mind again it told
of the simple words i had once heard
be humble and yet be bold
and so to action i was spurred

so it is for men after me to remember
that trials bow before work
for 'tis like air to a glowing ember
not in fable but truth
and then in true success i shall lurk

The Gathering

It was there they decided to gather

The sons and daughters of greater men

And luxury than sorrow rather

That hurt, them time and again

Yes these were the privileged few

The envy of simpleton thought

Carefree, as could possibly be true

The dream that others sought

And to them pain was another thing

That was to just once hear off

And once about it to sing

But to feel it not and scoff

For great they were and maybe not

yet their eyes did as always reflect

The lack of solace that spirit sought

Indeed so pitiful this grander sect

Disillusioned they this sect were

Corrupted by mere material gain

And to crave and long for

a thing just, not love not pain

As pain and love are not real

Like things to hold and touch

They’re things of heart to feel

Human and wholly such

No nevertheless they sat and left

An untouched few by life

That life unphysical in form

But an existence verily rife