By Madison S. Hughes (04.29.2009)

I quest for le mot juste
To decide ultimate diction.
Ever seeking truth,
And eschew empyreal fiction.

While the task seems fruitless,
And the time spent endless.
To avoid the vexation,
Is nothing less than horrendous.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.26.2009)

Belief is for the ignorant!
No kind way can it be said.

Faith based on hearsay
From ignorant fools,
A book of myth and fable,
That few have actually read.

Believers are intellectually lazy!
And braggart in how they see.

Belief is cognitively easy,
For it requires no thought.
But to reach disbelief,
Requires intellectual honesty.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.24.2009)

You are the owner,
Of but a brief spark
Of consciousness.

To squander it in faith,
Without reason or logic
Condemns one to ignorance.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.24.2009)

Arguments of many
That’s what I’ve had.
Acquaintances lost,
That’s simply too bad.

They spoke with emotion
In lieu of intellect.
Without use of reason
Their loss is really a benefit.

Growing tired of the ignorance,
And more so the hate.
Slowly but surely,
Their numbers accumulate.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.15.2009)

May one’s quality in life be measured
By the amount of tears shed by the bereaved?

May one’s stature in life be measured
By the amount of coin bequeathed?

Albeit the two are immeasurable
I’m afraid that’s how it’s perceived.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.15.2009)

A thief is sorry that he is to be punished,
Not that he is a thief.

A killer is sorry that he is to be executed,
Not that he is a killer.

So, why do we murder someone,
To show that murder is wrong?

By Madison S. Hughes (03.27.2009)

Public
Concealed from none to see.

Private
Confined to exclusive company.

Personal
Cloaked from all but thee.

By Madison S. Hughes (03.14.2009)

Old town Scottsdale,
A wonderful place to see.

The new fifty is forty,
The new sixty, fifty.

The sound of the hoof,
The sound of the heel.

The MILF,
The GILF.

Old town Scottsdale,
A wonderful place to be.

By Madison S. Hughes (03.13.2009)

Before the age of seven,
Innocence is all around.

After which,
Ignorance abound.

Until the age of seventy,
Where wisdom may be found.

By Madison S. Hughes (03.04.2009)

So long as men can breathe,
Or eyes can see,
So long lives this,
And this gives life to thee.

It must be remembered,
As Samson found.
Until blinded,
One’s sight still bound.