This is a poem from the series, Blasphemy by River
Hedonism and the Functions of Bliss.
Everyone seems to have life down to a science.
I’m sitting in my room,
What really is the meaning,
And where can I find it
How many of you were upset
The world was not the center
Of the universe?
I sat and pondered existence for hours.
Galaxies and other worlds;
It could get deep.
Peep holes could be black holes,
So I don’t explore the houses anymore.
I keep to myself,
I have enough to worry about.
Did it alter your being,
Looking differently at all the things you were seeing?
Did you believe,
For a momentary split second,
in absolutely nothing?
I still do.
It was too much,
Overwhelming and a challenge to my heart.
I was far to egotistical;
Too much of a good thing…
Yet I still wonder where we lie,
In the scheme of it all.
Among the outcast,
The inner circle,
Or are we outsiders merely righteous enough
To admit we are unimportant?
Who determined our misfortune,
He, or she…
Burned at the stake;
I wonder how much they could take.
Shattering thousands of years of inquisition,
Only to finally open the closet door,
There really is a monster.