"The Current Focal Point"

The theme of mundane in society is solo,

The concentricity of life is the self.

Shouting just do it, here and now, YOLO,

Reasoning entirety into minuscule pleasures.

Ignorant of bodies outside the dermal,

We focus our sights onto targets of The essentia.

The passing of ghosts surround the external,

Until the persons outside fade into mere agitants.

Has not our plight been slipping from concern,

Of those who matter to contempt?

Then why do we ignore to discern,

The meaning behind our motives and actions?

A blind eye to the deaf, a fist to the vulnerable,

Such a circumstantial position taken against not ourselves,

What was was the primer has melted into tolerable,

And, in turn, become a lost cause.

Society demands it, but must we comply?

"Identities"

Wearing a mask can make a man into a beast or sprite,

The view can change from out to in. Though the outside may look right,

It can never defend the truth underneath.  A light shining bright,

Through a hole in the mouth or eye,

Can reveal the truth about the being who inhabits the inside.

That's not to say that everyone who wears a mask is all but alright,

Just some are live and some are dead, and some are more alive at night.

In conclusion and in moral, the winner is the fight,

The mask is the persona of the person with the plight.

The gravity of life is when the masks are taken.

Wearers will be vaporized, or crushed, or merely shaken.

All will be stolen eventually.  Open eyes will awaken,

And dead hearts will rise, a truth will be not mistaken.

For this is the moment when true identities will come under surveillance.

"Esoteric Messages"

In essence, if there is nothing to say,

One should not speak at all.

Or else listen to the still in seclusion,

Bouncing off the wall.

Echoes of past and present ideas, images, flashes of being, reverberate down the hall.

Much can be learned from nothing said,

A truth amidst a quiet lie,

Is nothing short of annoyance,

If  projected against the sky.

A friend is even sometimes foe when all that remains is the warriour's cry.

A lesson the the airy breath,

A moral from the slightest whim,

Of life, of decline, and even death,

Can all be found from the voice within.

Flamboyance in nature can be discretely mundane if wearing invisible skin.

The best conversations are held in the air,

Lips sealed through distance and time,

But through the blur of noise we swim,

Listening for inaudible rhymes.

The answers in the midst of riddles, become the rarest finds.

"Malhappenstance"

An instance

In taste

Is pudding

"Trancending Unity"

As the lips of fate, so intertwined,

Separate from faith of the Devine,

A tale of true love is called to mind,

That transcends misfortune, distance and time.

The story begins with innocence,

A bond of youth, ignoring recompense,

The building of a wall from fence,

A wall that none could stand against.

The ship sailed on unto the edge,

Then turned and sailed back again,

Companionship with trust to lend,

To handle every curve or bend.

The wiser never understood,

The mask of wrong over something good,

And try as hard as no one could,

Innocence was trialed, but it withstood.

Through ups and downs but mostly down,

Proximity never came around,

And when the storm had stopped, 'twas found,

The mighty ship had run aground.

Forcibly it was torn apar',

And used as rafts and blown afar,

Great distances did the two depar',

they drifted on into the stars.

Thereafter was for hope no chance,

The play had ended its final dance.

But message came of a date too near,

All but joy had disappeared,

For one day reunition cleared,

The edge of Heaven's eye had teared.

And now to wait with anticipation,

For the hour of proclamation,

A love story true in origination,

A purest unity with no abation.

"Poemception"

Anon inside a winters night,

When peace had filled the air,

A lone man wandered through the road,

A task he seemed to bear.

So prevalent was his mode of think,

None other filled his mind.

But when he opened lip to speak,

He whispered this dismal rhyme:

"Love not, have not, much makes sense,

None but just a few, nerve to recompense,

That is captured here in essence:

'To what a great length of life,

To fulfill destiny?

To damn a sole to pain and strife,

Or elsewhat rest in peace.'

This much do assume the truth,

Much of fate will come to you,

Lest we realize must we do."

This message bounced inside his head,

A fortune of a tune.

But couldn't find the melody,

He lost it, thus assumed.

But eyes pried opened he stared at nought,

Focus on nothing at all.

Staring intently on visions of dreams,

He cast upon the wall.

"Maturity"

Shall a boy receive what a man deserves,

When he is below acceptance, unripe in years?

'Till he learns his order of commanded post,

Contented to grow, lest he realize his fears.

"In the Presence"

Were one in the presence, of something more real,

What, in turn, would reaction show?

Pain in depravity, collapsing attempts,

Dying in strength, or melting in power.

Were one in the house, of something more great,

What realizations would trump their former?

Thoughts of life driven askew by demand,

The greater the urge, the farther from perfection.

The exception of Will, by purpose of creator,

To command a life, straight in tangled knots.

To harbor a love much more than enough,

Fate made irrelevant, for plans shall endure.

The Hour of reign, in strength multiplying,

Left with a need to ignore the mundane.

Slow to acceptance, but eyes never shut,

Feel in the spirit, a love that is pure.

"Cryptic Reality"

For a moment if we were real,

Imaginge all that would be.

With me supporting you, and you supporting me,

Comfort of the unknown, is the primary feel.

For a day if what we are, 

Is all that we could dream.

The mystic in the pleasant, the shudder in the theme,

The closest of the plural, the distance never far.

For a lifetime of the true,

The sacrificial mistake,

To give up all the world for truth, the opportunity to take,

An obvious debate rising out of the blue.

For fulfillment of a plan,

To follow the road toward home.

Humbly walking the untrodden path, the map never left alone,

At the end of it all, finally becoming a man.