Poems

I've just been experimenting with the idea of quick and concise projections of thought through poetry. I've read a bit of the argument between philosophy and poetry in Harold Bloom's, Where Shall Wisdom be Found? My argument being that it can be found in anything because it is itself nothing, but that is only scratching the surface and I do not want to drag on because just about everybody checks out pretty quick if you start getting to abstract. It is crazy to me how little communication really goes on in the world. There is plenty of information being transfered, and words being used, but when speaking there is not often a single full idea shared. With writing, the writer can manifest their full idea, but the reader cannot interact to truly understand the meaning. It is as though we go through life hearing the half meaning of someone's finite attempt at explaining things that are almost all infinitely complex. I begin to wonder if it is I who is at fault for being so dumbfounded and that perhaps I cam just not quite as intelligent as the rest of the world. Perhaps everyone else gets it, and can understand what complexities matter while I trickle through the many streams of understanding that could possible lead to or leave from the fragment of an idea that might find its way before me. I am ranting once more, far from the topic in the title. I guess the point of this is that I wonder if people can better understand the directness of poetry in contrast to the vast complexities of a philosophical understanding. Either way Sophists have come back to take over the world. Beware for we have no Socrates to save us, and if we did he is probably in jail for molesting little boys. Enjoy.

Death by Peace

As I had feared
There is nothing to fear.
And so I die
A death unsung.
The masterpiece of war,
Undone.
And so I fade into the twilight.
No use for me
With no one to fight.
The love shown to me
For fear of the enemy.
But alas,
It had to end
Happiness in another's grief
Cannot last
It must be brief.
A soldier's tale
Honor and pride
But in the end
Because of peace
I died.

Mysterious Plans

The vision given by the seers.
The words of God.
The heart set.
The mind hardened.
Driven on a course with determined will.
The question never dawned on him.
Did he see what will be, or see what he needs to see?
Did he hear the words of God, or the words of his own reason?
With his own being, the answers would be paid for.
He may only hope it would be worth the cost.
Would it matter?
The time would come and go.
Would he be any the wiser?
Could he afford the price to know?
He could be no miser.
He thought long and hard.
Then it came in a flash.
It all seemed backward.
Wrong.
Then with a splash.
He saw it happen.
He heard the story before.
His heart set.
His mind hardened.
Driven on a new course with determined will.
The question never dawned on him.
How could this be?
The unfathomable mystery.
All was seen and he smiled.
The workings were finely dialed.
A story to well written.
The muse smitten.
His satan defeated-he pleaded.
The true test had come.
A past understanding, deep seeded.
Should he spare the beaten scum?
His judgement said no, but the words were never more clear.
If he killed this man, he killed himself.
The satan he fought was far more than he should have to bare.
His heart set.
His mind hardened.
He did not realize the cost was so high.
It was not time to die.
Then he remembered.
He had a choice once.
He chose to fight.
He would save many lives, he would do the world good.
He knew he was right.
He lowered his hood.
Slaying his satan, he had given himself.
His taint was now permanent.
He knew nothing else.
He asked God why?
Without a reply.
Then it dawned on him.
The rays of a smile creeped to his lips.
He was consoled.
He had done the necessary thing in a world of imperfection.
No man could be innocent.
God alone.
But then he frowned.
He had to ask.
In a world of imperction, what could be good?
He had killed a man.
Broke the commandments.
His being was lost.
He sacrificed it so that others could keep theirs.
The children of hope, the heirs.
Would he be redeemed?