A Play on Pop(Ancient) Culture

I sat like a pigeon with a brain,

Curiously wondering about visuals that retain,

I spoke no words nor committed deeds;

It was all meaningless,

My pretentious values out like the breeze,

None of me heed to satisfaction or affection,

No lost cause or pride to carry, 

Whether drought by the rationale absolutist value, 

Or stolen by the God Of Greece,

My intentions stay no different than holding some trees. 


I planted no seeds to harvest,

It’s not something to lightly account of , save time to invest. 

I hold nothing more mighty than the mere essence of essentiality within being. 

For even though, ‘existence precedes essence’ ; 

Life lives with the intention of being like the Gods Of Essence. 

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This poem is about: 
Our world
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