Nomadic Scriptures by the insane
i come from nowhere and will probably end the same
who am i then, not lost but forever wondering
through my nowhereland…
along the way a man enlightened, so proud and great,
he knew to teach me the way
and directed me to…
confide my soul to priests that boast possession over faith
and suffer religion to devalue god
into another cheapened artifact to fear
but i, truly mad, chose to suffer hell in life
rather than surrender myself to the proud and blind
Nomadic Scriptures from an unsound mind
i come from nowhere and speculate the same
who am i then, so faithless but still i pray
through my sweet nothingland…
along the way a man successful, such fortune and fame
he knew to take from me the little i had
and lectured me that…
self-satisfaction is worthy my submission
a master for my spirit, the artificial world of fickle ambition
where superficial desire devalues love and life
into a conscienceless commodity objectified to please the heartless shell
but i, truly mad, chose another hell and saw the rich as poor instead
suffering to be abused rather than the abuser
a warrior to fall as the last living exception, in the land of prospering slaves
Nomadic Scriptures of a beautiful delusion
i come from nowhere and my path is not paved
who am i then, neither lost nor saved
traveling through nowhereland…
along the way a scholar man, academic of absolute truth and fact
among those knowledgeable select few, he was rigorous and exact
speedily he took to instructing me that…
god is naught and all such mysteries long solved
for surely we live in the most advanced era so highly evolved
that we’re landlords of Earth and slave-owners of all its resources
man’s unsurpassed greatness, he thus resolved
places him as the most self-aware being in the known universe
sipping coffee from a paper cup he handed me a textbook mock-up
where he scrupulously prove to me the meaning of life
laid out over elaborate graphs and diagrams to prove he was right
Nomadic Scriptures of the daydreamer kind
i come from nowhere and will probably end that way
who am i then, not lost but forever wondering
through my makebelieveland…
along the way a kindred man, heroes unnamed unsung untold and roaming
souls painted by homelessness, poverty, war, and desperate days
he knew not to know and boasted nothing but a smile on his face
dignified grace the eyes told all there is or was to say
so, in casual disregard to bygones and come what mays,
we nodded in silent respect and went our separate ways
The portrait of a nomad from the unwritten Scriptures
