PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My spirit soars above
it weaves its escape through
these forced restraints.
It hums it vibrates
Venerated with every escape

Others want to find reason
To try to force thier treason
But the soul thinks naught
Naught at all of these dabblings
And childish selfish babblings.

They can't harm my finite soul
It has no opinion on titters or tatters
It's the condition of spirit that matters
Feed your lies as truths it murders
The truth is an illusion the soul furthers

If they with thier third eye blind
Who claim to see but can not
Fool no one savants and seers are
Enlessly confused though time
the difference is clear
one is blessed with a view to divinery
The other uses trickery as its devicery.

Chancery and sorcery the favoured
tool of mis-instruction is a list of magicians spells
Slight of hand and slight of soul
The devils foul call is cuckhold

Need you nothing but be yourself.
You do not need to bathe your soul to make it light
Just free hour mind and let your spirit soar
It is the light that shows the flickering, whoring flame
And the constant faithful free of shame.
Look carefully inside and out which is the true prision?
In or out?