The Delusions of Humans

This is a piece that I've been kicking around in my head, and intend to add to the 50+ poems for my upcoming book of poetry:  Cornucopious.  It's by no means finished, but I figured that it marks where my mind has been recently, so I decided to share it with you.  Feel free to comment on your thoughts about the subject, and where you are in this dreamy process that we call life.


"Delusions of Humans"
--Hobbes Deutsch, Jr.

​Your own home, and the others you've known, leave indelible marks on parts of your soul.  I'm certain that I could not make amens, for the wrongs I have done to strangers and friends.  And the cost is far too great when our company we have come to hate.

Oh, the delusions of we humans: we break love to make love.  Whether past, present, or future; there's no healing suture.

In this life, it seems that I can't achieve, the things which I can't bring myself to believe.  Existing in the company of thieves of the heart, is reason enough to grieve and fall apart.  But we pick up the pieces, and stitch up those wounds, to make scars of the creases, a Frankenstein monster doom.

Oh, the delusions of we humans: we break love to make love.  Whether past, present, or future; there's no healing suture.

Then as I follow the imperfect path, laid down to shield demons from God's wrath, I remember that even they were angels whom fell, from the lofty heavens into an imperfect hell.  And Satan always preferred a Chinese water torture reign.  So I hide my mortal weeping behind a fogged up window pane.  None know I mourn our passing under passion's wicked spell.  Unsympathetic daydreams rule our minds...  I cannot speak; I must not tell.

Oh, the delusions of we humans:  we break love to make love.  Whether past, present, or future; there's no healing suture.