Thursday, April 12, 2012


You say the choice of a thing really matters,
And indeed I agree, for the deed flatters
Your person all the more. But a choice that
I suggest you abhor are those ruts
By which you tore out the life, the voice, cat's
Meow, and bee's knees of your own person.
For if by choosing we choose to worsen
Our life and our love by which we set
On our ark, and by the firmament we bet
Upon in the cleansing of our souls,
Then we must accept the gift, control our
Emotions by intellect's guide, through stars
Of confusion and humble pride that mars
Our intellect with false pretenses, tars
Our soul with a varnish so foul that cars
Have better paint when they have rusted through.
So are you right when you say give me choice,
For you ought to have your right, and your voice,
But I beg of you please, consider well,
That some choices chosen land you in hell.

                                                          Choice, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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