Don’t be a sheep.

I think we are all sheep. Yes some are further up the heard trying to get ahead and some are trailing in the way back and need to get spanked to hurry up. But we’re all following; even at the front you may not be following the ‘crowd’ but your following something whether it be the shepherd or good ol’ collie. By the by I like to think I’m somewhere in the middle not so head strong to think I’m driving this train but not so far back, not so in the middle either (where all you can see is white); but one of the ones that stops every now and then to eat some grass or check out that really cool dirt patten or whatever.

I think sheep need more sheep like that ones that just stop a bit come out of the cloud of wool and take note of the path we’re all going along and just have a moment of clarity. Individuality is all well and good but if you never think about why your doing what your doing what’s the point really?

Because whoever you think the sheep herder may be whether it be God, Society or Lady Philosophy eventually we all get led to the slaughter house.

Passion needs no match.

What do you say to someone whose heart is on fire?
Do you tell them that they are just a liar
not worth the time, not worth the burning tears
Can you really remove all their worthless fears;
Of being left again, of burning forever.

The fire in her heart, in her loins spreading,
spreading through her entirety. The fire is breathing,
breathing without oxygen. How her flames grow
with ev’ry second passing with ev’ry second woe
of being left again, shall I burn forever.

Organic life.

A pound a basket
Of any ol’ vegetation
The scent of soil
You’ll find it here
Among the hustle bustle
Fresh as a daisy;
Waxy potatoes,
Juicy tamatoes.

But now the market is quiet
The air is soil
The daisy dead
The wax has melted
The tamatoes dried

A pound a basket
Of any ol’ vegetation
If only life was valued so high.

Still

Can’t you see me?
I am standing tall,
Despite all hope, despite all expectation
There is fallen waste around me
And only I stand tall
Surely you can see me?
I will not be still
I will not yield
The suckled babe is still
The water is still
The flora is still
The fauna is still
The light is still
The air is still
I am not still.

I am not still
But if you do not look
If you do not look at me
I will be as still as life.

Love doth make my faint heart bleed

Does a heart bleed?
Does it not constantly leak?
A whole muscle dedicated to pushing blood out of itself
How ever much forces through the gates, ousts as quickly
And when my bleeding heart ceases will you come with me?
My certainty tells me that my heart bleeds for you,
So does it not seem fitting?
My heart does not pump blood
Rather it rejects it, it hates it, and it is never relieaved
But some would say it was worth it
Some romantic poet, Keats perhaps?
He would most definitely say it was worth it
Worth the pain of my heart in that my soul could meet you
And whence our bleeding hearts end, can it not be for vanity
That I knew you