Again another excuse
Another kind of fable
All the mental abuse
Relationship unstable
Lets for once call a truce
Lay all our cards on the table
Though what is the real use
If niether of us are then able
At times l feel a recluse
Whatever you call the labal
Ease the presure ,cut loose
If either of us are able
Last minite spare left over words from epic poem cross roads written june july 2014...
At head of a firm`s protocol
A differently able soul,
I have known for many a year,
Executes her job without fear.
Hunchbacked, she wears a welcome grace
A thousand watts smile lights her face;
No dimmer switch can blur her gleam,
A waking, smiling joyful dream.
Her smiles brighten the dreary days,
Chase from the blues, grey clouds away.
A warmth that spills from heart to eye,
Beneath the vast infinite sky.
Label, Table, Abel
Love is the way you’re needed in the world.
Giving Peace to the wondering of your actions unfurled.
Patience was what you had while waiting for the missed.
Kindness was what you shown the stranger in your midst.
Goodness is the cause of the ending brought by you.
Faithfulness is the labor to see what's started through.
Gentleness to others that follow and are new.
Self control every label this list beholds is true.
It Wasn't That
He Thought He
Was Better.
That Was Your
Precious Lie.
Lucky For You
You Like It That...
Way.
Tragic Unhappiness Hoped?
Ok.
-Gray Squirrel
02-04-2026
A good writer
can write outside of themselves—
crawl out of their own skin
and wear another man’s shoes
until the soles burn through.
They sit at a bar
with a drunk they hate,
and still write his story straight.
They listen to a woman
they’ll never touch
and feel her loneliness anyway.
A bad writer
only polishes their own mirror,
keeps kissing their reflection,
keeps mistaking confession for courage.
But a good one
gets punched in the mouth by life
and writes from the floor,
from the gutter,
from the hospital hallway
where the lights never sleep.
They write the whore’s prayers,
the janitor’s philosophy,
the gambler’s last promise,
the child hiding under the table
when the shouting starts.
They don’t ask
if it’s pretty.
They ask if it’s true.
And if it hurts—
good.
That means it’s alive.
What Then, Lost Entertained?
I What Let Thet Be Named...
We Have Of De-every Volvoed.
I Thought Of Some, But NOT
Any More? Who (Please!) How The Art
Un-applied Suraprise Adaptadept...
I Think It's My Fault!
Hahahaha... Oh, You'd Be There.
Scratch Your Goose Jump Raven Feathered...
Smooth Flesh Was Wasted Anyway...
It's Why A Punch Line, For Realizing
It's Humorous.
!*!*!*! Uh-Oh.
-Gray Squirrel
01-08-2026
He is able
This is in the Bible
God can do what you cannot
The dream is possible
God answers clearly, miraculously, and powerfully!
Suddenly, inexplicably, amazingly
God can do what you cannot
God is able because we are His workmanship.
Tides change
But we can rearrange our paths and
We can bathe ourselves with forgiveness
We can reach our dreams
We can go beyond the brokenness
The dream is possible because God is Able
We should not let people run our dreams
The realm of possibility exists for us
We need to persist
Because our dreams will comprise different levels of trials!
We should allow our problems to push us to the reality of the truth
Where we look deep inside ourselves and
Raise our heads to the beauty of fulfillment.
The dream is possible because God is Able
The dream is the vision that we saw in the future
Which we are pulling toward the present!
The dream is possible because God is able through Jesus Christ!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
I think on the relief to remove my past,
Of failures and mistakes along the way.
It seems things would heal up fast,
Oh, the hurt, but what a cast,
That made me who I am today.
Cherished are things seen; now I know,
To hit rock bottom stop the digging.
Unfurled instead, their worth does show,
All the lessons firm I stow;
To sail so far is all in the rigging.
I see positive in my circumstances
under no roof or no security
shelves packed with uncertainties and cranses
to uplift my soul from any puredee
I begin a long list from Able Street
and better to be successful failure
to monitor tasks, adding slices of beet
than living inside that golden chamber
Who is disabled?
Is it me, or is it you?
Should disability be based
On an anatomical stock-take,
Or based on what you can do?
For I can climb mountains,
I can soar through the sky,
And I can slay dragons,
With just a blink of an eye,
I can overcome barriers,
Fight against impossible odds,
Ignore patronising glances
And condescending nods.
So who is disabled?
Is it me, or is it you?
It is completely subjective,
It’s just your point of view…
There was a time
When my faith was unshakeable
The Lord proved
That I was remakeable
His love for me
Was simply not mistakeable
The Holy Spirit’s strength
Was totally unbreakable
For forsaking me
He was incapable
His call on my life
Was just so inescapable
But I went rogue
And became insatiable
I thought His love
Would just be replaceable
In the world I could hide
And then become untraceable
Write my own ticket
My desires now obtainable
But such a life
Is so unsustainable
Bent and broken
I’m biodegradable
I’ll never get home
The chasm unscalable
Would He take me back
That seemed so debatable
My life got so twisted
My actions so hateable
I didn’t deserve it
My soul was unrateable
Consumed with despair
My steps were retraceable
At His gate I cried
My debt is unpayable
He opened the gates
How is this explainable
You are my son
That is not erasable
Such love as this
Simply unrestrainable
Have you ever thought about the raising of Cain?
Where did that boy get a rage so completely insane
that he ended up murdering his younger brother?
Did he learn it from his father and mother,
who must've been in such deep, psychological pain
for having caused Eden to go down the drain.
Why don’t you write a poem for your paintings?
I stare at the speaker.
The thought is overwhelming.
I do not have sixteen paintings.
or one hundred and sixty paintings
I have sixteen hundred paintings
Sixteen hundred paintings in eleven years
Sixteen hundred paintings I never meant to paint
Sixteen hundred paintings…..
Thanks to my granddaughter who begged me to paint with her
When she was nine.
I was never able to stop.
Do you know the love of Jesus
And the comfort of his care
And the sweetness of his presence
Just to know that he is there?
Troubles try and sadness sickens
Worries multiply and vex
But remember Jesus promised
I will never you forsake.
Mountains great may be still greater
Problems ever complicate
But be sure if you love Jesus
You are never left to fate.
When he died for helpless sinners
All sin’s consequences bore
He became our perfect refuge
Peace and rest for evermore.
Pain-free life he never promised
Never said you’d live at ease
But his love and care make troubles
Stepping-stones to find his peace.
Why not trust this loving Jesus
Give yourself to his true care
All your worries give him fully
All your troubles let him bear?
He is able, he is able,
He is mighty, he is true,
He is loving, kind and gentle
He has given himself for you.
I absolutely love you
It's you whom I adore
There's no one else besides you
Who I'm I so crazy for
And if we ever get to
You'll see what I've in store
From day one that I met you
Since then I've wanted more
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