"Whipsaw"

Whipsaw

It's simpler to see through the slightest decision

When all of the nonsense is left in derision

Confusion besmirches the loveliest thought

When nonsense imposes, then nonsense is wrought

To view one's own talents and forces of nature

As being defined by the mad nomenclature

Of a race that can only be known as confused

Leaves feelings confounded midst senses misused

There's love and there's fondness and both bring the light

The nonsense portrays them as dark as the night

When pleasure's desired and loving is sought

Madness will reign when the pleasure is wrought

Amidst all the tides of a race unfulfilled

Confusion determines that loving is stilled

I really wish I could say there will be more but my rhoetry seems to be at a standstill.  Eye of the storm, so to speak, I guess.

12/27/23

 This is an odd one.  There may be many more like it.  I wrote it due to a deep abiding desire to understand.  This is the first time that my two favorite topics coincided so closely.  It is way too advanced for any novice of A Sentient Perspective and, yet, fascinatingly enough, it may fall open like a well-read book for those that are interested in my poetry.  In fact, maybe I am beginning to explore another way in which to penetrate the stupour, ummm, sneak up on it from behind.  

It may also reveal its truest meaning to the one I hold dear.  She is not easily deceived, though I admit that this poem runs very deep.

Rather than tweak this one, I think there is room for another as I explore this fascinating domain between sentience, love, and the boundaries of our current madness.