I'm fading right before my eyes,
But this is not a big surprise
For I was never one to be
A model of good constancy,
Nor was I ever blessed to know
The boons of joy.  I bade them go
The moment I burst into life
And felt the separating knife
Divorce me from my mother's womb
And marry me to my life's tomb
In which I lie, live to this day
Still without choice.  I know that a
Mistake can never be undone-
And I am the mistaken son,
Forsaken and forgotten by
Each healing Apollonian eye,
Denied the late Oedipal sight
And held eternally in night.
Perhaps in prehistory's time,
When languagenessless rendered mime
Each man and ev'ry woman born,
Then I would have no cause to mourn
For none would know the horrors of
Burdensome unrequited love,
And never would there witness be
To theft of opportunity
Or subjugation of free wills
That makes men slaves to their own ills
Of greed and lust, of fear and pride,
Of blind belief and choice denied.
And though I know this world of mine
Is illusion of poison vine
Whose wine is stained black with the hate
Of human hearts, I can't abate
The fact that even fiction's lands
Have such to tie my sullen hands-
Rules that they cannot bend nor break,
Rewards they cannot earn nor take,
Dread tasks from which they cannot go.
Despair.  That's all they'll ever know.
Life's once abundant pleasantries
Lie now in their hypocrisies,
Proclaiming progress in their wake
While secretly they always take
The very soul of Mother Earth
And break it.  They will steal the mirth
Of children born without a sin,
Whose innocence will just begin
The moment of initial breath
But end quite long before their death.
Before what kept me much alive,
For what I'd rise and daily strive,
For what I'd raise the dead to life
Or steep the world in peaceful strife,
Was my belief in karmic fate,
In that desirés I could sate
To points where acts I had unfurled
Upon an unsuspecting world
Would be rewarded in the gold
Of which as child I had been told;
In that by living Golden Rule
I'd reach my end.  But I was fool
To think that such could ever be
My likelihooded destiny,
For those who only wait and hope
For luck fashion their noose and rope
And dress in hangman's hooded garb
To hang themselves from gallows' barb.
Beatitudinosity
Is but mere curiosity,
For Earth is not bequeathed to meek,
Nor paradise for mercy's weak,
And redemption is but a dream
For sheep to grasp at while the stream
Of life washes them slowly by
And gives them hope just to deny
The happiness they're told to yearn
For mightily but never earn.
They're told that patience is the key
And diligence, and piety,
And suffering.  Yet while they bow
And scrape and cry and wonder how
They have been so forsaken, those
Around them rise, their estate grows.
They grab the bounty of the land
Or courtesy from fellow man;
Where others hesitate they leap
Into the fray to rewards reap,
And greedily within their wake
They leave waiters behind and take.