The Thinking Beast.
Part 1.

The cardiac machine, the thinking beast,
Foaming at the mouth with mediocre speech,
With vanilla slogans and sickly smelling truths,
Nulifying the tree-borne fruits,
With worthless promises of salvation,
Cracking at reason with the discharge of fools,
And square illusions attacking creation,
While the inclining plane constantly pulls.

Part 2.
The discipline of logic leads you to nature,
The Goddess Sophia shows you her shrine,
Where even the living can meet their maker
Where wisdom and clarity are the divine.

By me aged 20.



Bees are buzzing all around,
Ants are dancing on the ground,
Butterflys are flying by,
And the birds are singing in the sky.

By me aged 5.
(I remember writing this one as if it were yesterday.)