Skip navigation

Category Archives: Poetry

Summer’s End – with apologies to W. Shakespeare

Now was the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of Greece;
And all the clouds that loomed over our land
Under a shallow layer of sand buried.

On golden-white beaches and blue-green isles
We hid from the coming storm, taking shelter
In yellow-golden fields left to wither
and windswept forests left to burn.

We turned a deaf ear to the rolling thunder,
Ignoring the acrid smell of smoke
We bathed in the blue waters and basked
In the sun’s heat, building hopeful sand castles.

Bound to ruin with the wind’s first blow,
Come autumn, come rain and lightning;
The fiery heat of summer into flame
shall turn, and burn everything to ashes.

Advertisements

I was digging up some old files tonight, and I found something I wrote some time ago as an experiment of sorts. With tensions mounting in Syria and Iran, I was thinking again if we will ever manage to have peace on this planet. Or, perhaps, the planet will know peace when we are no more?

When people no longer think for themselves,
But blindly stick to their beliefs,
Frozen in time, forgotten by Reason,
Disconnected from Truth, forming a reality of their own.

We own nothing.
Nothing is endless.
Endless waves in a churning sea of knowledge? No, information.
Information is not power.
Power is choice.

Choice not guided by knowledge is random and erratic, possibly erroneous.
Erroneous decisions and misguided principles lead to conformity.
Conform with the norm is what they tell you to do.
Do. Not think.

Never think.
Thought is an overrated process, holding hands with Reason.
My reason to be is my ability to reason.
Without it, I am nothing.

Nothing, no reason to be, but consume: air, water, wealth, souls.
Commercial commodities in a stock market of self-destruction.
Self-destruction is what we call civilization these days.
Days numbering in the billions have brought us no closer.

No closer to the Truth than apes are we. Or less so.
So blindly we stumble to the precipice of time.
And time will bring our oblivion.
And with it, peace.