Why aren’t we happy?
What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.
And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?
If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.
6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.
Blue or green?
The color of the sea,
Going up and down the waves,
To be my unexpected mood,
Sweet or sour the feeling of me.
The question of my mind hitting it through the divine,
The passion of art inside a deep mind,
With full of imaginations,
Hitting me through left and right.
Perspective comes along with me,
Seeing it in my mind,
Looking at the blank paper,
My emotions run down the pages,
Forgetting my visions along,
Looking down on paper,
Loosing my focus ,
Is getting hard to draw.
Speaking with my wild heart wide open,
Thinking of the world we live in today,
Standing amongst the people not knowing what to say,
Hearing the music flowing into my ears,
Beating myself inside these walls of hate,
Wanting my eyes to cry with full of tears,
Hating to be on this earth,
Seeing people fade away,
Sinking through lies in my face,
Stabbing me in the back when I need them the most,
Seeing people with unwanted faith through their eyes,
Anger comes my way,
Looking down at the world with full of questions in my head,
Going crazy with frustration and confusion of me questioning God,
Deep inside my heart is burning with poison,
Is breaking me apart like glass,
At peace without a path in mind,
Falling down somewhere here that I never belong,
I'm not perfect yet,
I like to lead not to follow others.
Life is like a tree that grows inside me,
Leafs on the tree come and go like people in my life,
Taking the road of life,
Things can change in a minute,
When I look away,
My goals would fade away,
Going back letting noting stand on my way,
Trying harder to focus on my goals,
Looking around with a smile on,
Reaching my goals slowly without a distraction.
The tree outside the window was bare,
its branches black thrust through the air,
like a nightmare in daylight lingers,
its branches resembled evil fingers.
The sky behind was stony gray,
it looked like it might rain that day,
I briefly wondered why I'd woke,
sat up in bed and lit a smoke.
So quiet is it by the lake!
My ears felt hollow, began to ache,
a city girl, I'm used to sound,
the ambient noise of a busy town.
What if I'd turned the TV on,
would the vacuum inside the room be gone?
The cat, I noted, was fast asleep,
a lump beneath the quilts and sheet.
I glanced again at the blank TV,
then looked once more at the skeletal tree,
it seemed to sigh as if forlorn,
just waiting for Spring to be reborn.
For a moment, I just sat and stared,
the sky so gray, the tree so bare,
stark silhouette of black on gray,
the tomb-like silence where I lay.
These turned my mind to darker things,
my boring job, the fatigue it brings,
scattered off-days wasted sleeping,
life-force through my fingers seeping.
Sleep all day and work all night,
wonder if there's an end in sight,
keep a brave face so they won't see
how this schedule's killing me.
Just then I saw a flash of red,
though depressed, I raised my head,
A cardinal sat and cocked his head,
the black, the gray, the brilliant red.
I see the beauty in the starkness,
a flash of hope among the darkness,
this perfect scene a gift to me,
the genius, its simplicity.
And as I felt my depression lift,
God granted me another gift.
He knew just how to ease my woes,
before my eyes, it began to snow.
It's snowed so rarely in my life,
each memory's sharper than a knife,
the cardinal flutters in the tree,
and shakes me from my reverie.
The magic of life is quiet and subtle,
the bud of a rose, a mirror-like puddle,
the magic is there if you let yourself see,
like the snow swirling 'round the bird in the tree.
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
TRIMMING THE TREE
Once a year across the land
A festive time is carefully planned
Part of this time just has to be
The anticipation of trimming the tree
It's always fun to shop and choose
Exactly the tree you wish to use
You take it home and once it's there
You decorate it with loving care
Special ornaments bring great delight
When placed on the tree to reflect the light
Each handmade by a tiny tot
Placed on the tree in a special spot
Kept and cared for all these years
Now hung with memories that bring on tears
You think of Christmases long since past
And marvel that time can move so fast
Those tiny tots now grown and gone
Will soon have children of their own
To teach how special it can be
When the time has come to trim the tree
Letting my eyes look within
‘I am here, I am me’ I state every day
Though I play with the words just a bit
yet always the message it be just the same
There really is no doubt about it
I am trying to enter the essence of me
I’m letting my eyes look within
I go to my center and look at my source
That space far away from the din.
Been doing this thing for just gone four years
And I’m feeling the changes that come
My mind be more mellow, and life feels real good
And the anger, it seems has gone dumb
Little things that mattered don’t matter no more
I care not who’s wrong or who’s right
I look at my me ness and find me the force
Of all of life’s wondrous delight.
I am here, I am me, these words I do state
And this it be my daily song
As I let the mind seek the source of itself
And feel myself truly belong
To the stars and the trees and the whole Universe
As I realize, everything’s me
I just want to be Mr natural man
I just want my mind to be free.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
'Baby, you taste like chocolate,
You and me we'd make a great rhyming couplet.
A.K.A a grinding couplet.'
'You can get on top of me like enjambment.'
'I can show you some wild imagery,
Me on you, you on me.'
'Metaphor stands for meet-at-four,
We'll get it on till the break of dawn.'
'Damn, could you BE anymore sexual?' -an example of a rhetorical question you could include...
'S-s-s-s-s-SEX!'- an example of sibilance you could use (and probably will).
'Annotate me honey, and together we can achieve a deeper meaning.'
A traveler has traveled far and wide,
Lost in the plains of yellow flowers and Poppies
He saw the tree that stood
An Oak tree it was, with stream of water from underneath.
A reflection of his image he saw,
A fallacy he denied.
Like a fool he talk to trees and skies
The west wind blew and his heart felt
Heard his name sorrow, thus the wind Whispers
“A man is weight by the sorrow in his heart”
Thirsty, he drank from the stream.
Bitter it was, but the stream was as clear as the sea
An epiphany he had, the taste of bitterness,
Was from his heart, the taste of sorrow.
Green grass withered and the sun died,
Illuminated by the night skies;
He mocks the heavens
And he curses the ground.
The heaven cried out,
“Man is imprisoned in the passage of time”
The stars died too
The stream dried out and came a man
“I am thy sorrow, thy need, thy fallacy”.
“I live in denial, for I know not the man I see,
I know not of my weight, my sorrows”
“The yolk of life that I carry has undone me”
“Emptiness in a man’s heart is the presences of grief
Atlas! How well did my heart grief” said he
“How well did my heart swallowe’d”
Darkness came over the plain,
the beauty was shunt from man.
A voice he heard,"nature of man is beautiful and deceitful"
Dawn came, blissful, as the early birds began to sing
the dew drops that fell on the grass, illuminated the plains
his heart was filled with tears of truth.
Your sons and daughters have gathered
Under the great odum tree
We have come to offer the fruits of our lips
Can you hear the rhythmic tunes of the xylophone?
Can you hear the vibrations from the flutes?
Can you hear the sounds of our melody?
We are the children of your great heritage
We are the children of your great tribe
The tribe our ancestors gave us
The tribe that is not complete without
Its mortar and pistil
We are under the great odum tree
The tree that stands between our two tribes
The tree that gave our posterities life
Your kings are here
Your elders are here
Your children are here
Awake! And listen to our great melody.