Bird Spew

And who am i? What shall it be
Well-trained horn or bird set free?
The noose is made
of coils unseen
too late for us,
some may deem
To run-a, fly-a, spirit ourselves
away
From bird-seed; fed
till bloated
each day.

Young sparrows wonder
what the great robin may be
So to check they shoot
with arrows - and flee
Question is, these archers
are they in forts or moats?
Either way the breathing
is difficult without boats
to surf the rotten seed
thrown
without thought or wonder
alone
down the dead robin's
swelled gut.

Ink and Oil

The miners dig and dig they do
Each and every last shard of oil,
that when they strike they throw the spades
and cry out loud "oh, what a spoil!"
"Yet it seems" the workman say,
"they may be more beneath this clay,
More oil to dig, more sights to see
of promises past and what's to be."
And so it seems, these fields of oil
will seep beneath the endless soil,
While we chase after, for fields of gold
or the wonders that lie below;
more oil to mine, more ink to know-
to clay and paper our lives are sold
till we hit the bedrock, a pit so deep
that no more does the oil do seep.
A pit in them and in us as well;
to climb out now? Only time will tell-
if this pit we dig brings gold and oil
or empty pools, once filled with joy.

------------------------------------------

Exams results were bleh, need to work harder in the future

Currently drafted into physics and chem olympiads, question
for self is whether i'm biting off more than I can chew

Always remember what mining does to the fertility
of the land

Reading Glasses

"...And when Hercules was saved
By the intervention of Zeus
the Critics did cry
"'Plot Armor! Plot Armor!'"

In seeking all knowledge
and learning all things;
the scholar shuns the candle
the writer shuns the strings.

No more is it enough
to merely forge for fun,
nor jump-joy, make-merry
see-silly
smile.

Instead all people,
yes, all people of "Wisdom",
of clarity and reason,
of realism and thought.
Must first purchase, before all else
a pair of blackglasses.

Blackglasses; that's all we seek
stained from stains upon the others-
Even the brightest of lights
is throughly absorbed; no smile
shall shine through
the blackglasses tint.

All words of joy
are the Medusa's gaze-
turn our hearts to stone;

Like moths to flame, we gather-
around the fiery innocence
of the neighbour's child,
born yesterday.