(Philosophy Humor/Poem) So,This Is Life

So, This Is Life

 

When I find myself in disfavor of riches and of the ladies smiles

I find myself alone cursing and weeping from this darkened state

My pain, my pain, why does Heaven hide from my tear filled eyes

When looking upon my life, I curse the bloody things I’ve done

 

 

Wanting myself to be like those who never worked, yet lined with gold

Coveting life like them with toes in the sand beating their chests like Tarzan

Why do we humans yearn for this friends looks and that one’s fame

If all wishes granted, what would we enjoy the most, and what the least

When in such thoughts I find it is myself the most that I am so displeased

 

 

Hopefully Lord I pray to Thee, rescue me Lord, for truly I hate my mistakes

I spent my years like an ignorant fool, with no guarantee of the next sun rising

From breathing air, to the cold grave, now hearing hymns at Heavens Gate

From this state I have lived in, Lord do I really wish to see Thy Holy Face

But then I awake and I do see the beauty of the morning sun rising once again

Aw but a dream, but wait, my boots to my beard, they are thoroughly singed

(Philosophy/Poem) Is It Real

Is It Real

 

In one’s imagination forms of life do appear or fade

Yet unknown to all but the Author who owns the Pen

Whether forms be beautiful like a rainbow in the sky

Or be daunting like the black clouds of a spring storm

 

 

Does the Earth really contain any human habitation

Or, is our lives just the imagination of the Great Poet

Is it possible that we are but toys in a Celestial dream

Is our world but the swipe of a brush on a master canvas

Can we paint the sun into the clouds of a dark rain day

 

 

Can any of us lift the dirt from a cold, cold grave

O Poet, be bright in the scenes that you write

For we know not if tonight our soul will be erased

Leaving behind only the vapor we thought we lived

Did you and I only live in the tip of the Great Poets pen

 

(Philosophy Humor/Poem) So,This Is Life

So, This Is Life

 

When I find myself in disfavor of riches and of the ladies smiles

I find myself alone cursing and weeping from this darkened state

My pain, my pain, why does Heaven hide from my tear filled eyes

When looking upon my life, I curse the bloody things I’ve done

 

 

Wanting myself to be like those who never worked, yet lined with gold

Coveting life like them with toes in the sand beating their chests like Tarzan

Why do we humans yearn for this friends looks and that one’s fame

If all wishes granted, what would we enjoy the most, and what the least

When in such thoughts I find it is myself the most that I am so displeased

 

 

Hopefully Lord I pray to Thee, rescue me Lord, for truly I hate my mistakes

I spent my years like an ignorant fool, with no guarantee of the next sun rising

From breathing air, to the cold grave, now hearing hymns at Heavens Gate

From this state I have lived in, Lord do I really wish to see Thy Holy Face

But then I awake and I do see the beauty of the morning sun rising once again

Aw but a dream, but wait, my boots to my beard, they are thoroughly singed

(Philosophy/Poem) Is It Real

Is It Real

 

In one’s imagination forms of life do appear or fade

Yet unknown to all but the Author who owns the Pen

Whether forms be beautiful like a rainbow in the sky

Or be daunting like the black clouds of a spring storm

 

 

Does the Earth really contain any human habitation

Or, is our lives just the imagination of the Great Poet

Is it possible that we are but toys in a Celestial dream

Is our world but the swipe of a brush on a master canvas

Can we paint the sun into the clouds of a dark rain day

 

 

Can any of us lift the dirt from a cold, cold grave

O Poet, be bright in the scenes that you write

For we know not if tonight our soul will be erased

Leaving behind only the vapor we thought we lived

Did you and I only live in the tip of the Great Poets pen