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UNRIDDLED

GIVEN A CHANCE TO THINK
SO THAT I COULD SEE,
WHAT REAL TO ME

Do I apologise for being me?
Or surf the raging sea.
What dignity if I said I was a fool,
When the world has that tool.
 
What makes a man strong,
They wonder and ask and ask,
I can’t fathom their task,
Is it love? And how can it be?
 
From such a man as he,
And I hear their constant lies,
And I break their constant ties,
While their purpose makes a sick man die,
 
Not me, for you see,
The poison of their curiosity,
Has reached me,
And still I struggle to see,
 
And right it is, I stand or sit,
And watch an open mouth fathom my grit,
As I learn to be social,
And not give up being me,
 
This is my voice, my choice,
As it may be,
To fight the pain inside of me,
And try to see, as my eyes can see,
 
 
While all eyes watch me,
So I choose to be a man,
And take each blow as best I can,
So that I might choose, who is my fan,
 
And yet I dare not disagree with the man,
Who’s wisdom taught me as best he can,
The duplicity of meaning in this sea,
Is my pleasure for all to see,
 
As I type and ramble on,
Following my mind,
And not my song,
For integrity is target now,
 
And integrity is mine to see,
So that I might be me,
And sail in this vast sea,
With it deep inside of me,
 
So what I say and do and type,
Is now becoming ripe,
Crude and disrupted by a van,
Or car and inside another man,
 
Yet energy fights the wit,
The integrity that pressure tries to outwit,
And how can pressure do such a thing,
When I still try and learn to sing,
 
 
For what has a man if not a song,
To pass the day as it moves along,
Dodging the pressure that is not just,
When a woman waits with eyes of lust,
 
And do not take me up wrong,
For the right woman I ramble on,
Lest she be challenged at every turn,
Others hoping that she burn
 
And such is my life, and now my song,
While others think they do no wrong,
And wait and judge and make a suit,
No judge of reason would ever root,
 
I hear and hear what I must do,
From lying mouths, that match my shoe,
And then again I am a peaceful man,
And so my anger, for me not you,
 
I redirect to something worthwhile,
And at God’s grace I smile,
No wait, I dare not,
Or my plans, they will attempt to rot,
 
For I have neither wealth nor power,
Other than myself, the will to learn,
In the fire of hell, I find my grace,
And what better place,
 
 
And the evil of every other man,
Tells me what I should plan,
And where to go and who to see,
Because their neuroticism thinks of me,
 
And only those pure of heart,
And true of character and yet so weak,
Against an army vast and deep,
And what pray could I do,
 
Pray some more.
To bring the truth to my door,
Before insanity knocks some more,
I close the door to pain no more,
 
And what brings this chaos to my door,
When truth and wisdom is the lore,
Of what was once this man’s core,
And so unwise I feel right now,
 
Yet compelled to write until I sleep,
Laid bare, so that all understand,
I am after all a man,
Who did his best, not the best he can
 
These last few verses a lullaby,
To all those who nearby lie,
And sleep and think,
And try to fathom,
 
Depths that only bring,
Misery and lack of all that’s right,
As they bite and bite and bite,
And never try and understand,
 
That I don’t fight for the lay of the land,
Nor for those that stare nor those that dare,
Nor those that warn not try and scare,
Nor anyone other than me,
 
Because and this is the important,
Part you see,
I fight for my mind,
I fight for my right,
 
I fight for those that have done me right,
And every insult that I hear,
The fool I am I try not to hear,
And I mean no harm, no wrong,
 
To anyone who stands strong,
To anyone who thinks and drinks,
To anyone who stands nearby,
Nor any far from reasons cry
 
I stand now, for myself,
And what I know true,
And mind I say, no not you,
I stand for those that are true,
 
To what is greater than me and you,
I stand weak beside such men.
And I might jot with my pen,
And try and learn.
 
The pressure builds against us all,
Between me and you a solid wall,
As I try and understand,
That something must bend,
 
I don’t mean harm to anyone,
And what is done, is now long done,
And I look to the future,
As I stand alone,
 
I give up objectivity until I get the chance,
So I might learn of romance,
Yet by nature, and by weaker men,
I will again pick up a pen.

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