The Light

How can you tell someone how you feel when you don't know?
How can you love someone when you can't love yourself?
How can you be normal when you don't know what it is?
How can you be happy when you have never been?
And how can you tell if you are happy?

What is your greatest sin? 
Is it your ungrateful attitude?

How can you tell when you really know someone?
You may think you do, but then they do something to shock you.
 Is that what you call knowing someone?
Can you never really know someone if you don't know yourself?

So many people have so many vises that bind them.
What is yours, and can you break free?

If you knew the dark side of your soul would you be disgusted?
And if you knew others darkness would you be afraid of their potential danger?
We are all human -capable of love an hate. 
Some show more love while others show more hate.
To be a healthy person they say you must face your demons and destroy their influences.
It is a dark task to break your habits and learn better ones, but it is not impossible.

Hope is a virtue that I possess too much of. 
Faith is a virtue I need to recover. 
Contentment is something I have hardly ever felt. 
Love is somewhere in the shadows lurking around me, but I can't find it. 
Hate is an emotion that my desperation feeds on and the vileness increases.\

If I am supposed to be a light then I need a new bulb!
Cynical of my own faults I can't move past the pain.
Everyone wears a mask to hide their true selves. 
To disguise their pain, misery, agony, disappointments, secrets, lusts, love, and rage.
It is a procedure that should be avoided, but we can't remove it. 
The greatest tragedy we face is not being truthful to ourselves and others. 
What will it take for our hearts to be free?
Or our souls to be mended?

(Written by Amy E. McCoy 2000)

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Still Primitive Beasts

Thoughts elude me as I recognize the numb within. I care not to ponder yet still seek something more. To what end do we exist, a topic I will no doubt ponder for years as I have for many years still.

My mind is restless and my thoughts formless no shape, no design, blank, void, Do the cosmos offer any clue? I shall think do. Man may never unlock the stars; do we know too little, and can comprehend the like.
All strive for knowledge, understanding, and more ways to approach the hypothesis.

Once we thought that the earth being the center of the universe, now believes the sun is the center. No doubt we may revise that theory as well.

Of all the advancements we still are brutal, primitive beasts that grow strength in the senseless slaughter of each other.

I do not advocate the wholesale slaughter of innocents, but I see very few innocent. I find no established government or officials’ innocent. It is the laborers broken back that support this corrupted system.

I weep not for the politicians’ or wealthy men. I weep for the hungry, beaten, and downtrodden. It is they that are directly affected. The rich buy freedom while the poor must fight for it. The human condition is a sad one.

We call ourselves civilized, but we have not changed our biology remains the same. Fear the educated for they deliberated cause strife. The ignorant know not what they do; the repercussions can be deadly and infinite. This forethought is unbeknownst to them. They retaliate as animals would and can only be pitied.

It is the educated men that strike a man down with a pen – that is what we call civilized. They do not need to shot and bleed a man physically. To crush an enemy’s hope is far greater than to crush his body. It pains me to see such abusive behavior. The blatant twisted force of power to enslave the masses disgusts me. Men do what fancies them and to hell with the rest. They do not care fro the others that suffer for their sake.

I weep for the long-suffering and meek, but I tire of carrying this burden. My resolve becomes weak at times yet my lineage is strong. 

Once my ancestors ruled over nations, owned lands in the mother country, fought many epic battles for freedom, but now I am left with none of their privileges, I am like one of the peasants they once ruled. 

How I was born out of era, too soon or too late I am uncertain. Many matters pain me intolerably. I find myself utterly misplaced in the shuffle.

(Written by Amy E. McCoy 1-23-06)


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