Schopenhauer's World

And once there lived a man
Though "lived" is not quite the word
For in our race he did not run
No, he thought it quite absurd
That we run around in pursuit of pleasure
When we should mock such things at our leisure
And turn inside, to both body and mind
Just what lies hidden there for us to find?
No "Spirit", no "gods", in fact - nothing at all!
What we find is a heart that beats
Lungs that breathe and a lust that seeks
And the ear that hears, mainly hears shrieks
And all around his eyes saw horror
Each animal at war with self and other
In men he mostly saw lust and greed
With woman a thief, to whom we must accede

From this mind, there came a call
To turn away from your will, once and for all
In music shall we find a tunnel, a door
Which leads out of this world, where, for a while
We suffer no more

Copyright, 2008, G. C. Morrice

The Fly

Crimson-faced Christ squinted in the afternoon sun
He began to feel the strain of his own weight
Most of the sweaty-sandled rabble had wandered off by now, only a few remained
A scorpion scurried under a red rock previously used for a stoning
One of the Centurions yawned just as the Nazarene opened his eyes
Realizing that his bladder was full
That's when I landed on his nose, as my wings were getting tired

Copyright, 2007, G. C. Morrice