Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Rants Two

Early this week i posted two poems as a start to my rants series. These are poems written in teenage angst and express the emotional turbulence that very few folks noticed in me. Some of my thought processes are quite warped. I do not subscribe to any of the ideas postulated on this lines. i was high 80% of the these poems reach you, do not hesitate  to  comment. Thanks


Soliloquy of a Warped Mind

Soliloquy of a warped mind,
Toaster of a spiritual realm,
Seeking the face of the undefined.
This destiny, mine.

Seeking and seeking, like the Bible verses
Seeking into the soul.
Sinking like an anchor
To the dreary depths of the unfathomable;
Taking the debris, the dirt
Then turning left in unwholesome want.
Take, Yes! Take the kernel!
Let the chaff, the wind blow away.

I have searched
Looking too deep, then blinded
And in blind movement
Traverse the mazes,
Sunken under life’s treachery.
Is this me, shaking like a leaf
Inside this tornado called tragedy?
What was it I wanted then?
Oh! Yes! Revelation!
Realization of self!
Knowing one ’s self!
Is that the reason
For this delve into the deep
Uncharted ocean,
The unknown depths of the far and unseen?
Crested on my skin
Is the epitaph ‘only God can judge me’
But for what?
Judged for my sins
Ravings! Unseen spittle from a spineless heart?

Take me away
To a place undefined
Where I can hide
And lie in wait like a thief in the night
For the ministrations
That will free these chains,
These chains to my soul.

Take a toll
Of the weight of my soul
On a gauge; piece of weighing scrap!
Draw conclusions on the result
And make hypothesis
Like Plato or Socrates.
Let Aristotle guide you
In achieving a Jungian state
But never pretend
To be greater than your fate
Because your estimate will never change.
However, you will your faith.

These are the thoughts of a mind
Warped like old leather;
Terrific in construction,
Subtle in castigation,
Free of speech,
Careful of thought.
This mind, mine,
Is the only sacred credo
I can testify to.

Do not misunderstand.
I am simply a warped caricature
Of my society.
I am a human of my street.
A culture of my people,
A story of the world.
My soul, my only gift that will last
Is not my own.
Those temporal, remain mine to use.
I will wield them well to my conclusion.

Ha! Soliloquy of a mind;
A sound mind;
A warped sound mind.


Tears falls down, this face of sorrow.
Joy forced away by life’s innumerable furrows.
Time takes toll; ticktock, ticktock…
Goes the grandfather clock
But reputation remains at the altar
Of social verbal assault.

They measure my mental capacity
With generally accepted doctrines.
Cross examine my thoughts
With stale theories of forgotten masters.
Does this matter much?
No! It doesn’t. It only pushes me against the wall.
And like a goat back to the wall,
It’s time to battle.

My lines flow unceasingly
With a shock-wave value
Of making men, mere men
Hate me and condemn my state.
It is my fate to lay down views
That is faultless in their contradiction
And stunningly shocking.
I take steps forward
Into the future, eyes closed,
Taking paths untrod
To get to places unseen.

Is it in this that I am?
Or does this destiny
Prophesy another fate?
In all, my fate is mine.
This destiny, mine to take.
This world, my playground
And men, my toys.
To greatness, I toast.
The strength of men
Lays here on this left hand.
Not of gods, no, no…

This is man
This vessel of dust
Corrupted by pleasures and pressures,
Fears and treasures,
Flesh and blood,
Worldly cares and spiritual tears,
Love of gain and pain of love.
All this is man.

Take away the dust,
What do you see?
Black and white?
Dirty and clean?
Pure and impure?
What do you see?

This dust creates the contradictions,
The mixedupness and confusions.
It is this dust
That makes a man feel hate
Yet gets love from his maker.
This fragile vessel, yet strong armour
Against the correctness of the spirit
This is me.
This is what I am.
This is my esteem.

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