The Sinking Ship of Negativity
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It's disappearing like buffalo across the vast plains...
familiarity has become distorted, both sour and rank.
There's an abandoning of the ship of negativity,
bringing grief far worse than nine months of labor.
It's given cause for an elegy, so who is to thank
for the decline of what was a tranquil sanctuary?
In backwaters, gossipers have rippled the waters.
They're are not allowed in the Creek to reek havoc.
But kindness has been fading here for near a year.
Likened to the end of a day when sunlight dims...
Warmth and friendliness have drowned with the sun;
into the dark depths of the sea, flounders serenity.
A sinking ship weighs anchor where sharks gather
for shallow shoals are dangerous places to swim
when bites are taken at the whim of the gnarly.
A few want to steer the ship with a broken rudder
and some don't bother to utter a word,
afraid to rock the boat that's trying to stay afloat.
Grief has been born and thievery has no shame.
How many times can eyes look the other way?
How many 'Gotchas' does it take when a name
has been given and proof's translucent, not opaque?
A chance at redemption is rebuffed and denied
when recognition holds sway. Too many are blind
to see that peace of mind can't possibly be found
when echoes refrain; it's always more of the same.
The only constant in life is that things keep changing.
The worms in an apple orchard continue to nibble,
caring only to wear crowns of usurpers on a fling.
They want to scream and sing a victory song
but rancid is the fruit on trees where they've grown
and the odor is repugnant on mid summer's breeze.
S.S. Negativity ran aground due to an Eeyore complex.
A brain in a jar needs fixing, take it for show and tell
and don't dwell on those with a burdened mind.
Some things should never be swept under a rug,
but when a bug is planted in the ear of those in charge,
they should be looming large to fix and nix it.
Too long unheeded without another reprimand.
Flowers wilt past their bloom; withered petals dance
their swan song in the face of inevitable doom.
Annoyance never brings about an ounce of satisfaction.
Gut reactions always trigger the grossly needy.
When jalapeno seeds are added by fatuous hands
broth is ladled from a brew muddier than a pig wallow.
Animosity and pomposity should never be swallowed
when it's awful offal, but billed as vichyssoise... chilled
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2025
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