An Offering

"Write happy," came the command,
A petal laden reprimand
From the maiden in the hills.

"When you have so much to do,
So much to cherish, so little to rue,
Why concentrate on bygone ills?

Stick your face into the breeze,
Be whimsical, smile with ease,
Sing with mirth and jubilation.

Walk in a garden, smell a rose,
Dream of poetry, live in prose,
Revel in all of creation."

"Nay," said I, "that I cannot be
The administerer of minstrelsy
Is plain even at the summit of joy.

For I have seen only too often,
When one permits oneself to soften,
Destiny hatches a malicious ploy
.
The flower picked, reveals its thorn,
The lover's sympathies turn to scorn,
The garden, once blooming, wilts away.

Creation reveals its myriad flaws,
Art is prostituted to base applause,
The world I am left to view is grey.

So, maiden, if that be all you ask,
I regretfully am not up to the task
Of writing mirthful poetry.

I am, however, immensely glad,
That every conversation we have ever had
Has inspired some poetry in me.

Take this as my meagre offer,
To a princess from a pauper,
And in taking it, honor me.

I may not write poems of laughter,
But for this life and ever after,
I vow to always honor thee."

Denial

My brain has denied me tranquillity,

Because,
When life finally seeks to put me at ease,
The brain regurgitates,
And vividly recreates,
Memories that send me back to my knees

My community has denied me fraternity,
Because,
When I gaze upon my so called brothers,
I see only sheep, thronging,
And now I gaze with longing
Upon the eras lived in by all the others.

My country has denied me poetry,
Because,
In denying me forever autumn and spring,
Inspiration by weather
Is now on half tether,
And any mention of it bears a false ring.

My species has denied me catharsis,
Because,
Acts which would set any sane mind reeling
Tortures, murders, genocides,
Trafficking, mass suicides,
Leave me completely bereft of feeling.

Nature has denied me Divinity,
Because,
In debunking myths with ruthless incivility,
It has shown life to be pathetic,
Merely a phenomena aesthetic
And run me pell-mell into nihility.

VALIS

If Mind is all, is Libido dead?
What happens when grey conquers red?
What is common between what Buddha,
Christ, Mani, Zoroaster and Dionysius said?

Is the world irrational? And what then, if so?
How, then, do we know what we always know?
Is there another deity aloof from all our sanctity?
And if there is, which reigns above and which below?

Are we a microcosm of God, or even a reflection at all?
Are we truly existent, or flawed mimics of Parsifal?
Do we worship God, and does he repay us by possession?
Who exists outside reality to verify what we befall?

Are there amongst us Friends of God? Kyklopes?
The third eye, does it dictate when Time stops?
Has the Empire ended, or was it merely asleep?
If the seed was planted then, who harvests the crops?

If the world is irrational, then the Deity is too.
Reality is a joke, empiricism is untrue.
There is no sanity, insanity, knowledge or purpose.
There is only a fabric, shredded right through.

Are we ever to emerge from our Chrysalis?
Is there an escape from our primordial chalice?
We shall never know, we malfunctioning subcircuits.
We are mere neural flashes, all slaves to VALIS.

In Contempt of Love

You are no offspring of the heart,
But a product of a weakened brain;
‘Tis just as easy for me to part,
From you, as to fall prey to you again,
Fully knowing, from the very start,
To expect momentary joy, eternal pain.

What is the heart but a bloody mass,
Drone like, keeping time for Death,
Sticking only to its rhythmic task,
Sucking life from endless breath,
Draining Life from its nutritious flask
Without insight, without regret.

The brain, it thinks, it sees, it learns,
It contemplates the will to be;
It rules, it reasons, it discerns
Elevation from mediocrity,
It strives, it labours and it burns
To attain knowledge and surety.

Tell me, then, you of the churlish kind,
Would it not flatter you all the more
To be associated with the mind
Rather than the heart, vessel of gore,
Or art thou mindlessness defined
And does reason earn a higher score?