Post Poetry!

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

-Rudyard Kipling

The rain cleanses the emotions away. At times I am so much in the fray, not knowing what to say, not knowing who are the ones that betray. I am putting my very pain and joy on display. I am the freedom that you gave away. Keep running high and stay tracked by sleepless nights and days, I am feeling fey and fading away. I close my eyes and stay off grid but there will not be a day that I would run away.

My eyes turn red and bloodshot. During all the hurt and suffering I got, I forgot and the thoughts kept me distraught. I guess I will need to find a soft spot, to recover and cure from the rot, rust and rotten dust.

Is there anyone out there? Is there anyone that can help me overcome my fears? To be with me to wipe away all the tears. My expressions are crystal clear, I mean it all, my voice is sincere. Can you be the one to repair and reassure when I am wear and tear?

I lost so much these last few times. I lost the best of lifetimes, even through all my mistakes and crimes I feel closed in by borderlines. Will you pick me up when you hear my cries? Will you take a look into my eyes and see the demise and the part that dies?

Will you show me the light when it's darkest in the night? Will you show me how to protect and fight? Will you let me see the bright and the sunlight?

I need you, like we all do. This pen only bleeds the truth. These words have strength and they soothe my wounds. Just let it all out, not through mouth but by going about, ending the shutout.

I did thank you. I feel I can express a lot of my emotions into writing.

P. B. Shelley "Prometheus Unbounded", a part of Prometheus' speech:

No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt?
I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun,
Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm,
Heaven's ever-changing Shadow, spread below,
Have its deaf waves not heard my agony?
Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever.