Spiritual and Inspirational poetry that touch the heart and soul, and provoke the mind.
Two years its been and idiocy
Has not set in. At last I’m free
To know that it was all a lie;
I won’t be damned if I should die,
To some unlovely spot for we
Who cannot comprehend beauty.
My skin did not erupt these years
Nor madness come from secret fears,
Though deeply hidden was my shame
And never once I named the name
Of IT, my solitary sin
Whose practice makes the eye grow dim
Against all odds, sanity,
Did not elude this sinful me,
Yet well I knew that now I dwelt
Beyond the pale of all who felt,
With depth and sensitivity,
And faced their ids with honesty.
I know they’re called by other names,
Like “infantile, neurotic, my way games,
These years that brought such undreamed wealth
Derived from gratifying self;
And High Priests of Psychology
Quickly doom the likes of me
Who chose to practice celibacy.