All Play No Work, makes Jack a giant jerk!
Career buffoons stay cynical, and lurk
where soulwork never rears its wonky head.
In ways that count, they may as well be dead.

The inner loafer oaf is sick in Soul
and powerless through Will, to elevate
beyond his flatland marsh. No self-control,
plays out the same as stalemate in Fate.

So many ways to drop the ball, and yet,
like Casey at the bat, the fathead banks
his future on, a long Hail Mary bet,
the House rakes in, consumes, then burps out, "thanks!"

The 'universe', derives from words that mean,
'one truth'. A truth so big, its uncontained.
The universe of Mind, appears wide screen,
and paints with shape and motion, un-restrained.

No big surprise, that 5 star thought, won't come
through gritty workings of a 1 star brain.
A frivolous fuckwit, will never plumb
the sumptious depths of intellect's domain.

Too many people still believe that God
has Personality, and that He hangs
with angels in Heaven. It does seem odd
that when you show them logic, they show fangs.

Religion is for followers. A man
breaks trail within himself, in every way.
A smarter, harder head will scan and span
the quicksand pits, that lead to sour decay.

Maybe its for the best, that most don't know
a half iota's worth, of what's at hand.
Like paradise on steroids, the new plateau
of wonderment awaits, glorious and grand.