
Mind Sprocket gives voice to simple and honest perspectives. We publish thoughts and experiences on our world. We tell stories.
For Beauty ought with beauty live,
And Beauty is God’s home.
And to the pure the purest give
The purest place to roam.
I burn with the same carnal, carnivorous passions,
The polygamy of the untamed
You are my love, my poetry,
My sounding heart and tongue;
My thoughts jumbled illit’rately
While your clear note rung.
Love is a scale often tipped.
Love is real.
It is also, unfortunate
As it is,
Often mistaken or replaced
With acted,
Glass replicas.
A bomb hardly explodes, but glows.
And poison kills not, but grows.
Why else, when stricken, do blades sing?
And why at funerals do bells ring?
I have been turned to stone.
My movements are slow,
Thought is slow.
An inch goes unnoticed,
And I cannot scream out.