Blobs
I forgive the
24 mould blobs strewn about on
the ceiling almost every time they
about-turn because
they bring me
crackers when I
crave crackers.
Upon the anniversary of soldiers who fought and died
When the moment comes to mark that sacrifice' when
starmer steps and strides, a wreath of treachery to lay
Then watch as the veterans turn.' As they express Britians
Anger, may parliament look and learn.? Learn of love
And loyalty..Of care, And how hearts burn; as they turn.'
Turn just as the ANZACS did.' With their own true blue; about turn!
Upon the lies and word Salads' also that endless churn' the twisting decieving coercion and scheeming, may the whole
World look and learn.' Although I don't approve of wars
I agree with the feelings inside, and the wish to right the
Ship of state.The right to live, in an 'honest pride' a right' of security, of solidarity
In dignity on all fronts' all backs and sides.!
Life has become an amorphous mass,
Sans shape, sans structure.
And my mind is in total discombobulation.
I feel I am like a scrap yard.
My world has lost its tint and throb.
Defeated and decimated,
I long for an about-turn,
To reach back from whence I started
To get out of this quagmire
To restore all that slipped through my fingers,
In the tangled labyrinthine paths of life!
How I wish to curl unobtrusive,
Into the womb that bore me once,
To be reborn once more as my old self
To enjoy the peace and bliss, now alien!
As trees bared by the winter blasts,
Stay in wait for the spring to arrive,
I await a new life, fresh and new.
Before that, I must rip loose,
And peel away the covert mask
Sticking tight to my concealed face
Though it may cause me to bleed.
Exhale the soot of hatred,
Polluting my larynx and lungs,
The time is up for me to leave the stage.
But before I make the final bow
I should fit into a new cast,
And become a man again!!
Like a warm embrace
That can fill a heart
Expanding with heat and love
Through every chamber
Yet without warning
It can take an about turn
Causing pain and hurt
Words can wound
And destroy
Ripping through precious moments
Bruising the inside
Of any body part
No wonder the Word says
There is life and death
Held in the power of the tongue
Requiring nothing less
Than than a daily guard
Be soft with your words
And speak with love and care
Leaving health rather than pain
Fight the urge of strife
Offering respect
Using relationship bricks
That build rather than destroy
Leaving paths and bridges
In the suburbs of your life
Surrounded with spreading blossoms
And a garden filled with succulents of joy
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (spoken by Jesus)
Mark 12:30-31 NIV
TOO MANY TO COUNT
Life most precious, but what about our souls?
We see our lives played out in innocents.
Too many to count -
too many is one!
One child wept over
by many - too many tears,
even one that falls to account.
What to teach?
What to learn?
Why must the Holy Book be burned?
Turn about…turn about.
We are encircled by our neighbors.
The hurts, the cries, the tears,
the resounding wails.
They come from the North, the South
and all about. From Buffalo,
from Uvalde — their innermost
pierce, pervasive, catastrophic.
Too many to count, too many is one.
Too many to count, too many is one.
5/25/2022
things you write
about turn me on
as i set alone
you set my tone
not by phone
never forget
how we met
you made me shine
was
ROMANCE ON LINE
Again, I Stop at A Fork in the Road
Again, I stop at a fork in the road
And trust experience will guide me.
One way looks rough; the other, not so easy,
And so I must choose which path to follow.
I weary of the weight from carrying my load
(Others have regressed for fear of consequence)
And regret past choices and where they’ve led,
That I would about-turn and not be bold.
After ascertaining my dilemma, I reach out for advice;
The thought of being wrong frightens me.
I realize I cannot face the future alone
And pray God forgives me for my cowardice
In procrastinating my time by idleness.
Without belief in Christ, there is no hope.
DEAR GOD,
why must I see the road blocked--
and make the about-turn?
I want to know something--
why must all my dream become oblique
and blatantly bare?
your generosity stills stands--
waiting to inject my pessimisms.
in absolute rejoinder, God I agree
the solemnity, the gravity, all that matters.
I stand to be corrected now.
I stand to be given another luck, God.
by placing me anthropocentrically--
I got myself condoned on that glorious tree,
God why did you do that?
why did they bow to me for instance--
capitulating their will under my foot?
or does it mean they pray me?
I am just a piece of the clay--
and you know that God
my righteousness is underdone
it has empty existence at all, God!
The silvery metal lines
snake around the bend
into the building
waiting at the end
The gravel shivers
as the huge train passes
bound to the rails,
whilst divided into classes
Yet all move to the same place,
there is no about-turn
in this directed race.
There is no freedom to turn,
left or right,
as to the rails are bound,
even if massive and mighty – what a sight!
As to the rails are bound
- this train
that moves on the rails
towards the building
waiting at the end.
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