WHAT TO BE

For virtue,

Do not be but clay to man

That any may touch and mould to what

shape they desire.

But like Bronze

Holding an edge for all

to form shape upon.

In character, a fool

Like water is,

Takes shape of it's container,

But like a still container,

A shrewd man

Shapes all that into his life enter.

The wise, my little one,

know when to 'be' water or a still container.

To spot a vice and flee,

Be eagle eyed.

Be shift of foot and

Procrastinate not

Lest thou taketh the liking of clay.

Let follies from others

Be thine learning,

And thou shall but thine own make few.

Thus a fixed North Star

Shall thee be

For man, as even a sailor,

To take his bearing from.  

                                          Opolot Simon

Mining the Mine

Gold you may have,

Silver and all that

Passes for precious minerals

But there is just but

One mineral of them all,

the Mine,

Mine it today, and you

shall forever prosper.
                              
                         Opolot Simon

INSPIRATION

I smitten me down with

a thunderbolt that deafens,

Hearing not all other calls

than this lightening fast idea that

now rocks me to the bottom.

This one spot of light

That now shines bright from this blacked out stage,

Bestows its urgency upon me and

hastily beckons me to its calling.

All other calls, secondary but become,

And I, smitten down by

a thunderbolt in a haste post haste,

Are lost in this but a single spotlight of inspiration

That now I hold.

Until the logical conclusion come,

Prisoner to it shall I be,

Of it but an inspiration.

                                            Opolot Simon

InExperience

Like a plain page,

You are my little one!

And everybody around,

Like eager authors,

Readily inscribe on you.

Your author you choose not

But their work, edit

Correctly what on your page write.

And you shall be but a virtuous one.

Little one,

wrongly edit

And you shall be but a piece of dung

For everyone to spit upon,

And no better than a plain page will your worth be.

                                              Opolot Simon

River of doubt

Where I come from or go

I know not

What shape or form I am

I know not

Colour have I not,

Taste or smell are but alien unto me.

Size matter's not.

But all to mine enslavement come,

even for a minute!

This second of smallest doubt destroys eternity!

And forever flow I, River of doubt.

                                            Opolot Simon

Hunger Pangs

What can I compare you to

Ooh hunger pangs?

An ulcer that upon her mouth soar fluid tasted

Or a corrosive acid that

Upon my skin fell?

This weight of an empty stomach that

Weighs me down as I in

Slow motion rise from my sitting!

What can I compare you to?

To weight of liquor to a

Drunk who can't find his footing,

Or an empty tin that

can't in a howling wind

find its stand for its own weightlessness?

A thunder storm roars not in clear sky,

A cloudless sky.

But in my empty belly,

Roars this very storm!

Ooh hunger pangs,

To your own strength you concede!

Gradually to vanity you vanish.

As I to eternal bridge of darkness sink.

Weakness I feel,

Pain I feel not

As to eternal oblivion I so journey.

                                              Opolot Simon