An Ode To Love: A Poem By Michael Wharton
To some, love is a romantic stroll on the beach,
To others it's a destination much harder to reach,
Through immeasurable hedge-maze lined with thorns,
An uphill struggle with bleeding sores and corns,
The few who make it look easy only worsen our plight,
Our efforts feel huge whilst theirs appear so slight,
Like newly hatched turtles crawling to the ocean,
We wrestle with obstacles and constant commotion,
Not all of us survive unscathed on the turbulent journey,
A lot of us frequently end up on the surgical gurney,
Suffering from severe takotsubo cardiomyopathy,
Only relieved by kind ears and anecdotal sympathy,
Not all of our journeys are fraught with such peril,
Some abandon all such efforts and go almost feral,
Hermits from reality shielded behind an Internet gate,
In biology like systems have a tendency to integrate,
They drift through cyberspace searching for happiness,
Filling out questionnaires to find another to caress,
Tirelessly looking for a lover with matching criteria,
“The one” could be sat across the room in works cafeteria,
If there is just one predetermined person for each individual,
How will we know when we find them what is the signal?
Does love just happen by chance or does it have to be made?
What is love? A private matter or a prize to be displayed?
The answers to these questions are not carved in stone,
They are found best in pairs and not discovered alone,
Fare thee well on your journey bumpy as it may be,
May you find the answers that have thus far eluded me,
So I done wrote a poem about love, as it goes I am not an absolute cynic about romance! I am a romantic, I just find romance very difficult. Good luck to all the lovers, even the ones who make it look effortless! This poem was written on the suggestion of Lauren Daley, who is one of those lucky people in a relationship that looks effortless!
An Ode To Fate: A Poem By Michael Wharton
Heisenberg was a man of principles,
In uncertain times he has many disciples,
There is no way to know what lies ahead,
We can not predict the future in our shed,
The path of each particle may be a pre-destined,
Unavoidable path which is pre determined,
But as external observers we can only see,
The present and past paths of its journey,
Free will versus determinism is an epic debate,
Either we control our lives or we're slaves to fate,
Can we override our base impulses and choose,
Load the chance cube of life and never lose,
Many theologies claim to control the odds,
Through prayer, human will, favour of the gods,
True mastery of fortune is not to seize the controls,
However to embrace your path, drift with its flows,
A little poem I wrote idly considering whether my actions or decisions have any effect on the direction of my life. I hope you enjoy the inner turmoil of my personal existential debate with fatalism and determinism!
An Ode To War: A Poem by Michael Wharton
You are a weapon in the war against peace,
They use your fear to control your actions,
On either side they produce vile propaganda,
Take care to examine the motives of factions.
Why fight at all, what is your main objective?
Power, money, control, cruelty and corruption,
Power over the minds of the people and opinions,
Money is the constant for supply and production.
Control over land mass, of which there is finite,
Cruelty to those who disagree with your virtues.
Corruption of the virtues you pretend to uphold,
Evolution's Nature's job we have to let her choose.
We are at peace with war so it seems in the media,
The news is just numbers now, in bite size chunks.
Between targeted product informational programming,
Sold to you by plastic chicks and shredded hunks.
This may be very short and succinct but the topic and subject matter are distasteful and abhorrent, so I kept it concise. I didn't really have to include details of war or its atrocities, as we are all very much aware of the obvious physical realities. I wanted to keep it simple, as war often is; a struggle for resources at the cost of human life.
An Ode To Poverty: A Poem by Michael Wharton
There are of course the few who have,
Those who want or need for nought.
They are a privileged minority class but,
Poverty is a more popular food for thought.
A pleasure sought is a problem halved,
A whim or wish is too easily bought.
Money is a strange disease; whose
Symptoms are societally wrought.
Imagine the future world possession free,
When resources aren't commoditised.
No wars for stuff and junk or this and that,
A world where you're not hypnotised.
We can build it, fix it and just do it better,
Our utopian future can now be realised.
Technology will facilitate the transition,
To the world where wealth is synthesised.
This lump of rock belongs to none alone,
To co-exist here we need to better share.
Close the gulf betwixt have not and have,
Give up all of our possessions if we dare.
Do not horde what we can not consume,
Or stockpile spoiling foodstuffs; it is unfair.
If we can't eat it we destroy or waste it,
We could feed the starving poor everywhere.
Our road to redemption lies ahead in time,
We need to march along it in cooperation.
We need not leaders political or spiritual,
To distract us and break our concentration.
With motives unpure and greed provoked,
They attempt to weaken our determination.
They forestall the day that freedom prevails,
Using fear, peer to peer, and malign litigation.
So there you have it; my first foray into internet poetry and I'm getting political! This poem is of course an indictment against capitalism and the false scarcity, that perpetuate the dichotomy of rich and poor. Anarchy is either the only means to the end of a Utopian world without poverty, or a direct result of a gradual shift of paradigm. We're moving towards a more free society due to massive technological advances and the collapse of money, as an obsolete, arcane control system.
UPDATE! I have Recorded a video of me READING this poem ALOUD! OMFG!