Poetry

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©Bob Barra, 10-26-06

Hey, there now; look at me;
I love myself, sight unseen;
Don’t get in my way; I am free;
Don’t you hurt my self-esteem;

I make gods of my own desire;
Not with gold or decaying wood;
I make them from my passion’s fire;
What I’ve judged to be good;

I use these gods as my proof
Of what I feel to be right,
For they tell me what is truth;
Relativity is their might;

My worship system I have based
On each and every precious lust;
All my guilt has been erased;
My sense of wrong reduced to a crust;

I’ll take these gods, thank you much;
They’re so convenient for my heart;
I fail to see how they’re a crutch,
While I fade off into the dark...

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