Muse

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The minutes crawl, meandering mindlessly by,

as the mind mulls on myopic miseries.

Minutiae distracting—malicious in its mediocrity,

as merciless minions of misgivings muddy the waters.

But where the muse, whose music brings meaning?

When weaning from mundanity we writhe,

then written on the walls is the wonder of her witchcraft.

Who mollifies the weary and meddles with our worry.

Myriad memories are woven in her menagerie.

Where many malevolent mental blocks

are withdrawn and mended into that

magical mess of which they were wrought.

The who’s and the where’s and the why’s and the when’s,

writing we wrestle them while we still can.

It’s merely a moment, a miraculous wash

but wading unworried we’ll master the world.

-Brad OH Inc.

What I’d Do

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Ideally, I’d ignite imaginations,

And turn the tides towards the truth.

Flush out the frenzy of fury and fear,

This dreadful dearth of decency.

To cure the conscience and cleanse the corrupt,

To run roughshod over the ruthless and reticent,

Rejoicing in righteous resistance.

For you I’d find favour and fight folly,

Eschew even the most enviable egress,

To stand and study in silent sorrow,

The hardened hearts of hopeful hangers-on.

Alas, in your absence,

Listless and lethargic,

I wait without wonder, wanting for whatever,

May alight within and bring ascension,

To an abode of absolute beatitude.

Until then, useless and unending,

My wait for what I would do,

For you.

-Brad OH Inc.