TO MINDREAD A MYSTIC I When seasons end Poets become mute Their fun begins They call it Madness It feels so normal Is tolerance of pain Suicide’s slow motion Crippling the insane The need to give Desire to share And they just don't care Sanctification Exists for some Best in death II Aromas bear meaning Without language yet Any creature understands How can I know If you smell Just like i do Only a saint can make One smell different To all under a holy spell Telepathic blood Speaks unexpectedly To select of the brood Incense perfume and mace Can each shock the face Depending on time and place III The family Is a prism to display Many mothers Not all orphans Seek their mother Whose love can smother A goddess Can address The need to repress When incapable Of carnal love a virgin mother is essential A perfect mother Can never fail The frail IV Earth will not change Hence prayer To arrange the strange A soul in a Healthy man Appears after death A soul in a Holy man lives Beyond its owner One who prays alone Is admired by many If able to change the immutable Leading prayers Draws many Acting as one V Hard to take one space To be all over the place Yet giving no trace Having but one face Avoiding one grand disgrace One without a trace What the hell is grace Certainly not clothes of lace Find that earthly place Moving at a pace Reality cant displace Nor truth can replace Rock steady for incase You are bound to a disgrace You can keep the pace
To Mindread a Mystic
Published
T. M. Shorewick 