Poetry

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Symphony Of An Anarchist


Eternity's taste is but heartbeat removed
a reality so often displaced
In light of facts weaker than Truth
it behooves one and all to make haste

Contemplation's offspring...so often futile
if one's own navel is their sole passion
Eves of destruction, perhaps creeping this night
as Mister Death never goes out of fashion

Back burners, slow learners-no hurry you see
the family of illusions reigns supreme
Interior anarchy...surely not malarkey
for I am the measure of all things!

Where is the proof that your version of Truth
of planets revolving round me
is any less true than this love you spew
that The Son in my face makes free?

And perchance come that day "oh well, " I will say
"I've burnt the candle at both ends"
And should I be wrong, I'll not sing your song
of Christ and His forgiveness of sins.

Jron...2003

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