"Sonnet on Self-Reflection" By St Pariah Would I that my true self were easy to see. A mile of my soul contained in one inch. But tired are my lids as sleep banks her fee. And requires my task eyes immune to the flinch. Oh such a skilled actor I am! Pretending myself to the throne. Quickening backwards my vision ran. When I was forced to stand on my own. What a strange state of affairs! A flaw in apparent perfection. My self with its rips, rakes and tears, Is drowned in the river by its own reflection. ...This seems to be my lot and my portion: ...Eyes only wide enough to see my distortion.
"Quixotic" By St Pariah A world without the self-contraction. A place of infinite joy and bliss. Does such a place exist? No gap between a need and its satisfaction. Where married are command and wish. A world without the self-contraction. Where boys become men of action, And every man and woman rich. Does such a place exist? Where minds no longer seek distraction, No THEN or THERE but only THIS. A world without the self-contraction. Come! Wave your flag from beauty's bastion. Wet your lips for glory's kiss! Does such a place exist? I'd give my all for just a fraction. My life I'd give to find that niche: A world without the self-contraction. Does such a place exist?
"Breaking Time's Arrow" By St Pariah Merciless and tramping is Time. Consumes she our nows nervously rolling. Bringing each tinsel moment to its prime, And dancing to the bell of never's tolling. A single life comes a-blush, Soon to enrich the thrush of nature's clod. So that infant feet might win the crust, Whereupon older feet had former trod. It is folly of the youthful heart, To twist the body for its whims. For all to soon our breath departs, As the skull into our banquet grins. ...Would I that Time should slumber on her cot, ...So that how I see you now will waver not.