These words are numbing,
But they still keep coming,
Steel in my blood still rusting,
It is stained with mind,
With optimum lines,
Being transformed,
Into a school of thought.
Where people levitate,
When their minds meditate,
On these predicates,
Lines on a poem,
Activating some reality,
In a maternity,
Pregnant with thought,
Words, whose worth can’t be bought,
We are ink – credible,
We write legible,
Not Da Vinci code,
Deciphering parables,
But we are the parables,
Minds so inconceivable,
realize the impossible,
view from a conical,
point to the logical,
life of the prodigal,
son of the literal,
rhyme of the liberal,
mind of this critical,
kind of the eternal,
rise from the internal,
souls on a journal,
poem with a verbal,
sign of reversal,
thoughts in conversion,
drawing from a passion,
off a school of thought.
Bless this herb,
That has made this lab,
In my mind of experiments,
Can collect my intelligence.
Compose in this residence,
Space with some sentiments,
a Poem with the evidence,
of life beyond the evident,
grasp of the present tense,
until when its provident,
to remind what is prominent,
truth and some common sense.
Are the light of a school of thought.
So I bring in this capacity,
Life without apology,
Thought in an algorithm,
Velocity with rhythm,
Tenacity in prism,
Diffract this reason,
Then you might season,
Like a leaf on a tall tree,
Imagine being free,
From fear of anything,
From tear by menacing,
Obstacles in the system we,
Are bread and born to be,
Puppets and marionettes,
Classified by the net,
Profit margin of the rest,
Cream on a crest,
Of a man’s daily bread,
Until instead,
We have nothing read,
To us from the dead,
To learn from them,
Undo our mistakes,
Rise the stakes,
Make this a better place,
And show a little face,
When we surface,
Our own schools of thought.
