From dust til dawn

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
that’s when it all started

All my particles woke up
and freestyled their way to
what they thought they should do next

Some entered heaven, to have a look around
Some danced in purgatory, and fought fire with fire
Some joined the spirit, and bathed in its wisdom
Some lay down on the ground, to enjoy the view

And so on, and so on
for there were many particles
I won’t bore you with all their stories

Suffice it to say
they had a ball
and weren’t very happy
when it was time to regroup
and be born again

Simple (multidimensional thinking)

She spent a lifetime
being a firm believer
in dualities

Absolutely certain
that one was not the other
and the other wasn’t one

Grey was just as much
part of a duality
as black and white

Simple

But something changed
just as something didn’t
She was changed
just as much as she didn’t

Somehow she suspected
that black and white were the same
and always had been that way

Simple

Full stop

I don’t know about the full stop, really,
it seems so harsh sometimes, abrupt,
a monologue of silence

I don’t care for the full stop, really,
if the universe has no end,
why should a sentence have one?

I just realised I wrote a completely different poem with the same title, it’s fun to see the difference. Check it out here if you like.

I am, ain’t I?

I am child, woman, crone
I am who I will be
I am who I was
I am who I won’t be
I believe in choice

Do I need to know what free will is
before I can believe in it?
Free of what?
Genetic disposal?

I am the one who cares
I am the one who doesn’t

Nice philosophy babe
but if you’re all that
why do you choose to worry
choose to struggle
choose to fight
and if you don’t know the answer to that
are you sure your philosophy is right?

I am my own parallel universe
I am the devil that whispers in my ear
I am the angel on my shoulder
I am the one that questions
the one who answers

I know, #NaPoWriMo 2014 is over, but why waste a perfectly good habit by stopping? I’ll just start worrying that I need to work on poems instead of throwing them on the net straight away.

I’m not worthy

Of course I’m not proud
I’m not worthy
Pride is reserved for the gods

Which begs the question:
Was Mary allowed to be proud of baby Jesus?
Holy mother
Mother of god?

Of course I’m not proud
I’m not worthy
Pride is reserved for the gods

Pride comes before a fall
but the question is: who falls?

God was proud of Job
and sent him all the plagues he could think of
just to prove to the devil
that Job was a good man

Of course I’m not proud
I’m not worthy
Pride is reserved for the gods

Since asking questions might be frowned upon
(Who are you to dare think for yourself?)
I’ll just pride myself in being humble
I’m not worthy enough to take a fall
for that you need to be special