A Post-Modern Portrait – A Poem

“But I like the inconveniences.”
“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”
“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.” There was a long silence.
“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he said.

-Brave New World by Aldous Huxley 


A Post-Modern Portrait

Steel covered sky.
Gun-stock gray rays.
Metallic molten moon.

Where do you turn when the hovering dome
That covers your head is sucked void of joy
Like an eternal vacuum, gasping for breath?

Is this really all there is left –
Empty shells consisting of robotic movements,
Resembling humans, but without hearts beating in their chest?

Why are the pure at heart so easily discarded as trash,
But the deceivers received as gold?
What kind of world do we live in when all meaning has been lost –
A heirloom remembered, but regarded as ancient and old?

I’m afraid the heart seeks a treasure that doesn’t exist,
Washed out by the waves of progress
And swallowed by the deluded ideals of feminists.

Woman, do you want to know why there’s no longer
Knights in shinning armor walking the streets?
Because you have become accustomed to the darkness,
Mated with the dragon, and your pride refuses to admit you’re in need.

Independence and self-reliance have paved the death of the soul.
Romantics lay in anguish,
Lost in a world gone cold.

When the Self becomes king,
Selfishness reigns supreme.
Love is shackled and silenced When “ME” “MY”, and “MINE”
Are the passions and desires the heart screams.

Gun-stock gray flock
Of unfulfilled passionate yearnings
Flutter across the cold, metallic sky.
Heartless, inhumane existence clatters
With each footstep of people passing by.

And I am lost in this game.
I don’t know how to join in the delusions.
I have no desire to come to your miscalculated conclusions.

I don’t know how to still the warm heart beating in my chest.
I have no desire to walk like a lamb to the slaughter
And watch my soul shrivel like all the rest.

I have no desire to play by the rules
Of this revised edition of the Game of Life.
I’ll boldly wait in my alienated prism reflecting the light
Rather than sell my soul and vulnerability for the sake of safety
And step out into that dark night.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley

Romance’s Introduction – A Poem


Romance’s Introduction – A Poem

Your lustrous eyes draw me in,
Beckon me closer, uninhibited and unafraid;
Allure me to dive into your deep, refreshing sea
Like a moth mesmerized, hypnotized by a flame.

Your curves caress and cause my carnal desires
To flare up in a blaze as a match to gasoline.
Your emotional depth and vulnerability add fuel to the pyre –
A breathtaking bonfire built upon the balance of romance and sexuality.

Feminine longing whispers to my soul
In wisps of wonder like ceremonial incense from across the room.
And I’m dazed to discover my masculinity rousing to respond;
Aspiring to feed your fragrant flower, nurturing and protecting it until it blooms.

Divine delicacy dwindles in distress –
A soul afraid, yet yearning to emerge from the safety of her cocoon.
And I’m entranced by my need to satisfy,
To unveil your wondrous wings and free the beautiful butterfly that is you.

There is no need to tell me what you desire
For your heat radiates like tongues of fire speaking to my heart.
My lady…I know the intimacy you crave, your sensual tidal wave,
And I’m here to tell you I have more than you could ever want.

So unlock your chamber door, undress your distresses,
Drop your defenses, and hand over your hidden and guarded key.
Romanticism is my essence – no more games or guesses –
For my romantic nature is ravished, ready to devour your beauty.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley

photo credit: Nostalgic Grace – HD Desktop via photopin (license)

The Meeting of the Stoic and Romantic – A Poem


The Meeting of the Stoic and Romantic – A Poem

The stoic spoke to the romantic
As they crossed paths in the Roman Forum.
“How can you be so weak, so feeble, so helpless?
Have you no shame to show the world your heart, to wear emotion on your face?
Have you no fear, no understanding of the human race?
Surely, you’ll be taken advantage of
And this foolish notion you call love
Is nothing but an illusion.
The solution to life lies in the mind, not the heart.
Don’t weep when the world swallows you whole and tears you apart.
You’ll have no one to blame but yourself.
Can’t you be more like I
And pass the cruelty of the world by without batting an eye?
I am strong, in control, composed.
My fate is in my own hands.
I control my destiny and refuse to bow before any woman or man.
Scatter along now, and put that heart back where it belongs.
Chest out, chin up. Do at least pretend to be strong.”

The romantic did not cast his eyes down in shame,
But a fire of passion ignited on his face
And a smirk delighted in the flames.
“Ah, you may think I’m weak, feeble and without poise.
But I tell you without a doubt
That I’m stronger than mountains because I have a voice.
It is you, my friend, who is the weaker one.
For where I have joy, you have none.
It is true that my heart waivers from hot to cold.
But tell me, what will you have to hold onto
As your days pass and you grow old?
I trust in more than myself, for two is greater than one.
Independence is but a charade for the coward who hides and runs.
I choose to feel. I choose life.
Can a man who feels nothing at all even be considered alive?
My tear drops may fall. I may be called a fool to forgive.
But my scars are not weaknesses, but proof that I’ve lived.
I’ll go on loving without fear, for it’s the world’s most powerful fire –
Powerful enough to even topple this entire Roman Empire.”

At this the stoic balked.
What stupidity to think that love could withstand such force.
He chuckled and walked away.
But in the city of Jerusalem history was changing course –
A man named Jesus was being laid in a grave.

– Poem written by Justin Farley