PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

To ask,
Sanction me to covet lands of fortitude yonder that of ground
thyself am ill,
Every breath performs the entertainment of foul oxygen,
slighting my lungs as my feet manifest an obtuse retrogression
as they somber underneath sands of disgusting pestilence.

The phrase “ick” becomes relevant
as my chest chokes to the nauseous atmospheric filth conducted
by this world’s inhabitants.

We must all choose way with this abuse
for these un eminent, grotesque, repugnant customs
entice human malfunction

Alone these facts hold not.
To enforce test, never only through one spectrum but
committing trials of
the physical,
metaphysical,
psychological,
philosophical,
and spiritual structure and well being amongst man.

Shit, even this planets soil mars its own nutrients just to spite the flower.

So we ask...

Take us to the Province of Higher

A place where evil is of dearth appearance
and harmony is a tenant of space which pain shares no reside.

A place where its oceans radiate and shine of
secreted, golden ember by
reflection of sky-fire.
A place thats air
purifies the lungs in the stead of poisoning them.

This place of rash ambition is at its current,
potentially unreal
but with the yearning of our civilization ever maturing,
its semblance
may one day in fact hold truth.

A place where beings in contradiction to that of humans,
harness the ability
to prosper and frolick upon terrain alloted by
every, and all species.

Vast, but mild geography
A place where love of all variation
is not of second nature... but only...nature.

A nature as common as
a baby blubbering
in tears to the advancement of first illumination to the eyes
whilst departing from their mothers womb;
hence infiltrating their new world.

Every spec of this spoken world’s
generation be of parallel
with heaven.

The orchards render dimensions
that of Titans.

The Mountains
occupy position with peeks of
great nobility and wisdom.

The clouds
be of not, for the sun
only shines.

Its seas breech gap
between water and galaxy, for its mystery
handles more than any purple nebula.

Its waterfalls
are shun to rage as their loudness
resembles ill fact to their otherwise calming downfall.

Its apples portray red.
Its skyline betrays blue
and its people...

Oh wait...its people... somehow, I forgot about its people

But then again,
I repent the prior line.

I did not forget....

There are...
no people

Does not the reader
fathom my words chasing?

People,
they are the very source of the ugly.
they plant seed to the sprout of love’s relinquish
while in the same instance,
ask to leave a world for a life of lesser compromise.
when it is they, us who have spited ourselves in the first place.

But still we request invitation to the the Province of Higher

WHAT FOOLS WE TRULY ARE!

For to
produce this greater world
we must delete the inferiorities in a world we
already sustained.
To be gone with hate and make less ado with love.
To settle for second and honor the first.
For men born into unlimited capital to share with those of much reduced prosperity.
To lead men to peace by ways of the heart
in opposition to those led to war by the fist.
To take hammer to the skull of the heavy,
erasing the vial,
abominable,
shameless scum

that is inevitably...

Ourselves.