humanism

A description of one Forces the mind to think Of rudimentary traits Anything but distinct One man's frailty Another man's strength. One woman's resilience Another woman's resent. Yet the further we progress The more we find That the characteristics of us Are not so easily defined. Over multitudes of moments Information is learned. And instinctively shared Between two, unstirred. With this is mind The following must be asked For no sane person Can ignore what has passed. How can nature Create a bind so strong And then cast one aside, Leaving them utterly alone? No remorse, no sympathy No regard for one's strife So e

Confidence in the populus A shyness in oneself. The utter exterior, Of a world needing help. Arrogant they say, Without a moment's delay. Irony, I reply, And consequentially a lie. Having the audacity To deny six billion people, From the politician in his office, To the vicar under his steeple. A meme can have arduous effects, Allow it to affect all but yourself!

An apology in advance - save those who have already come foul of our sin. There is a game we play And by 'we', I mean men; Some of us aware, Others not as yet. A playing of the hearts Not much different from the suit in cards. To Womankind I must openly confess Of the inner deviance man does possess. Achieving nothing of importance Our young Pechorian dreams Linger at the sight of a supple cheek Or the smell of a yearned for neck. And my pursuit begins, With nothing but pure rejection to abstain I live for that moment, The chase, The game! At the end you will ask, "Why do you search for me?" I will reply with arrogance a

Poor, insufferable man! With his whimsical worries And plain stupid desires. His fear of the end Only wastes what is left Worshipping idols None of which exist As if that will save him From an eternity of rest. And if I existed. Like I'd give a damn None clings to hope So ignorantly as man. Non-conceptual birth And mitotic food A Hitlerian death toll That is excused as eventual good. All because, You are afraid of the end An instinct in all living creatures From bacteria to men. So why not just accept That this is probably the last An issue that matters little, When attempts are made to grasp... Billions of orbits pas

A warming exhale Watching blue mountains enclave Glittering rivers --- Glowing log fireside Hollow footsteps on the floor Seductive comfort --- The note a drop makes On an open mountain lake Rings peace to my mind --- Haiku aim to please Like most items Japanese Through the short and sweet --- Light shines in slim shards Through water on forest bark Soft is the stream's tune

For Little Tim to Win Would be a very good thing. We must support Little Tim, For if he does Win L — But simplicity avoided We insist on destroying it Bastards pull the veils tight. In-groups and systems to prevent a resistance, Ensuring one's foot in the right face. Tim is not a rebel He just strives for the medal That we all should be making efforts to attain. No matter how far the stretch It should never be set to say one did not try because success was undefined. Definition beseech us Where infinity meets us Delight in our advantages Unbeknownst. Paths decay In open glades The mountains, then cities lay next.

Disgust cannot be helped when you gaze Upon the stage that is the World Said a Voice around the dining room table. A line of smoke Advances the frontier Past the times of shattered souls. What was once near impossible can now be exposed with the natural gesture of a Hand. And that mangled sound Has been masked as profound The bell, The death knell doth ring. Little Tim will never win, Not with chances so slim Against the pastor and the Patriots’ gold. Liberty and comfort. Thought And recognition Leading to philosophies of nothing. The church bells sing The death knell rings Just once, But in a thousand places.

Have you ever seen green, That was so unusually mean? But it matched the picture that it was in. It gave resonance to the moment Maybe despondence, if you chose it But not composure that would normally be seen. A trace of green On a landscape scene Like the mischievous glint in a child's eye. Such a rarity that we should cherish But simultaneously leave unnourished For once touched it is gone forever.

Incipio! Listen to that melody Ringing in the air Do you recognise its tune? Its vibrance? Its flare? It seems so entirely correct To our lives and the world You can recognise its humming In a flower petal or the city vogue. If only there was a way So we could wind the record back And listen to the piece From the first to the final track. But I am handed my groove Where the needle now lies An entire moment of the universe Described with the most detailed lines. The beginning may be unclear But that does not mean that we are free To blindly write our own composures Without knowing which key.

. A girl like spring said 'Long poems are a turn-off'. Now I write haiku. .