DYSTOPIA 

​A concept once imagined

A theory once propounded 

An era that served as fodder 

For the world of media 
I wake up day after day

Unsure whether I am asleep or awake

Situations I once witnessed on screen alone 

Manifesting themselves around my vicinity 
Fiction becomes fact

Fact becomes reality 

Reality becomes happenings 

Happenings become now
Hope rests like a lily in the mire

Struggling for survival 

The cesspool of bleakness drowning it slowly 

Its petals waning from asphyxiation 
Alas not all is lost yet

Spores emanate from the dying lily

Spreading to little bits of fertile land

For in the face of darkness 

Little hope still reigns 

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The Cosmic Pyramid 

​First there is Nothing 

A total dark abyss of non existence 

A chasm of zeros and nonsense 

A blank canvas where ideas are made
Next comes Chaos

A sudden jolt of energy 

Concepts, meaning and manifestations erupt

Disorderly without purpose and direction 
Then Order is established 

A stoic system of formation 

The atoms arranged, the assembly organized 

A mindless strata erected
Design is made

As thought is used to enact logic

Intricacies and complexities interwoven with intent

A format built with purpose and direction 
Mind is the master

The overseer of all design and order 

The consciousness that powers the mortal coil 

That approves and alters at will
God the final phase 

The zenith of the cosmic pyramid 

That the mind endlessly strives to attain 

Until it falls short only to begin again from Nothing 

Genuine immortality 

​Immortality 

Human’s ultimate desire since the inception of time

The notion of existing perpetually 

Living and breathing continually 
Mortality 

A concept that haunts the mind on end 

The notion of fading away

Rotting and decaying day after day
The philosopher’s stone 

The fountain of youth 

Relics and myths pursued for ages

Time spent chasing the death cure

Only brings man closer to his departure 
For immortality is not about flesh

It is not about maintaining the mortal coil

Like every machine, the body will cease to function 

Because physical living is not the only option 
What do you accomplish 

On your brief time on earth

Were you a tool of change

Or an object of shame
Can you linger in memories 

After you are long gone? 

Ever living in the mind of people 

And not regarded as an essence of trouble 
Gandhi, King, Mandela 

All men of valor that we ever mention and respect 

For genuine immortality 

Is not about simply living

But about leaving a legacy

A Tome of Poems: Mammon

MAMMON

For those that don’t have it, it is a big deal

For those that do, it’s a piece of paper

Its viewed as the primary source for joy and thrills

And a significant lack of it brews disaster.

The current god of the modern age

Its roots anchored within the hearts of mortal men

Its minted leaves places man in a mental bondage

Yet we chase it to no end.

You cannot serve God and mammon

View it as a means and not a destination

Death is an inevitability we share in common

Pursue not after only ostentation.

A Tome of Poems: Morpheus

MORPHEUS

Night falls comes and umbra is king

The canines howl and cicadas sing

We journey into the land of the surreal

Leaving our corporeal forms, quite and still.

Alas we arrive at the realm of the endless

Its landscape ever shifting and restless

One is free to craft his wish and story

For here you are the architect of all and sundry.

But hail the sultan of the soporific and lord of lethargy

His somnolent sands filled with latent energy

Hail Morpheus the god of sleep and dreams

Hail the Sandman from whom all our slumber streams.

A Tome of Poems: Dogma

DOGMA

For some its a theological schism

For others, a coping mechanism

There are those that stand by its conviction

There are those who maintain there is a contradiction.

A belief propagated by a virgin birth

A doctrine professing about life after death

A tool utilized in ensuring morality

A weapon that can be a source of calamity.

A principle for instilling orderly manners

Or a propaganda for installing mental fetters

The apprehensive remain blanketed in doubt

The accepting retain their faith, evermore taut.

A Tome of Poems: Cronos

CRONOS

Its a perpetual river flowing without ebb

Round and round it goes like the cycle of Kreb

Its contents washed away never to be undone

Carrying with it ripples of things to come.

Its the endless rotations of a celestial wheel

Events come and go which no one can conceal

Secrets buried and destinies foretold

No one can escape the grasp of its hold.

Its a titan controlling the epoch of the cosmos

Convicted and committed, no one can stop Cronos

The past a memory, situations we can’t suture

The present a gift, utilize and plan for the future.