Sonnettics

Reality is how we’ve all been fooled
We watch the machinations some call god
The god of my reality is dead
The machinations vanished in the light

You think you bring the hope of blinded eyes
Reality persuades us all to look
To look at god who hides beneath the stairs
And corners us with poems we can feel

You think Reality is god? You’re blind
Just listen to the chiseling of light
While death becomes a poem in your book
And you will never feel the truth exposed

It means that you were right and I was wrong
But we might meet within a sheltered song.

They, unrestricted by a gender role
They, unrestricted by a simple noun
They is My God, the Lover of my soul
I seek to feel Their Mercy, wear Their Crown

They must have hands that help Them to create 
The metaphor of hands both weak and strong
I feel God's hands in everything, innate 
Begin, believe, behave, become, belong

They is My God who is both First and Last
They rules above and also in my heart
Eternally, They shows They is steadfast
Forever with me, They will not depart

In knowing Them I know that I’ve been awed
And I am proud to say They is my God.

When Dreamland catches fire, all is lost
New Yorkers are no longer entertained
With nine alarms the park will feel the cost
And Coney Island’s dreams are thus constrained

Still biting heads off chickens on the pier
The Freaks and Geeks may try to carry on
But fire makes the brave New Yorkers fear
When Dreamland burns to ash, the dream is gone

Will history remember how they came
What used to be such fun is now a mess
Will Dreamland ever know another name
Like Nightmareland? That’s anybody’s guess

A metaphor for dreams that might burn down
Cuz Dreamland’s gone from old Breukelen Town.

If pain becomes a pretense, we’re all screwed
Delicious pain, like apples in a box
Pretentious apples everybody viewed
A key that opens doors that god unlocks

I see you’re trying hard to understand
The words that bring such foolishness to light
I know you think this isn’t what we planned
But foolish words are often what we write

The pain of words becomes a joyous art
It gives new life to nothing but the sun
This dawn of words is where the truth will start
When words become the painful truth of one

I’ll be that one if you decide to quit
And all the truth you see will turn to shit.

It’s like I’m only waiting for Godot
And yet to esperar is also hope
I wonder, does he habla espanol
Or is life just a thing with which we cope

(The slant rhyme in that quatrain works quite well)
“Godot” and “espanol” don’t really rhyme
But, wait for it, like heaven waits for hell
Oh yes, you know such knowledge is sublime

Sublimity is like a hungry cat
Sublimity will eat most anything
I watched one time it chased and caught a rat
Sublime, the song of death I heard it sing

So esperar sublimely and you’ll know
Sublimity is waiting for Godot.

(with apologies to Beckett)

Let's celebrate the day when ALL are free
Regardless of the color of our skin
A day where US is made of You AND me
A day that marks when endings can begin

Beginning with the glory of the sun
Tomorrow marks the solstice, but today
The sun has risen high for everyone 
It guides us on to find a better way

A better way proclaims all Freedom’s free
A better life for all to join the song
The song of Freedom, Truth, and Liberty
Come celebrate today. Come sing along

The nineteen day of June is just one day
But we are “Free At Last” the prophets say.

I bought a book that nobody checked out
It looked so lonely, sitting on the shelf
A million books encircled it about
And yet it seemed like it was by itself 

I wonder if it cried or even cared
I wondered if its title was too long
When lights are out, do lonely books get scared?
Perhaps my purchase-timing was just  wrong

I picked up and opened it to read
It seemed it knew what it was meant to be
I flipped through several pages at high speed
And heard it whisper quietly to me

You never know when somebody will find
A book like me to ease their troubled mind.

I sat and watched the fucking world explode
Ironic that I almost nearly died
I sat and watched the universe erode
Perception sat in front of me and cried

The sadness of mortality is this
Dichotomy lives on in simple time
It starts and ends with something like a kiss
With something common, something most sublime

Is there a god in heaven when we die
A god that lets the fucking world explode
Is there a kiss that isn’t just goodbye
Is life a simple dirty, dusty road

I guess it doesn’t matter what we feel
Reality is simply fucking real.

Memento mori filled with finite grains
Reminds us that the sands of time fall fast
'Til not a single spec of time remains
And ev'ry future soon becomes the past

The present symbols of our pending death
Present our eyes with what our eyes will see
And by the life we feel within our breath
We also feel the coming autopsy

Memento mori's volta is the sin
Of all creation, knowing Thou Art God
And knowing thus, I seek to enter in
To places where the words I write are flawed

The Word is God in Heaven or in Hell
The last grain falls; the tolling of the Bell.