With paper towels and a spray,
I cleaned the window panes today.
It’s not a chore I like, but hey –
It’s what you’ve gotta do.
I wiped the window sills, as well,
Though, at a glance, you couldn’t tell,
But those who in Manhattan dwell
Know schmutz likes to accrue.
Of course, once cleaning had begun,
I dusted all the frames, each one
Just waiting ‘til they all were done
And propped back up to view.
Assorted bowls and vases, plus
Some tchotchkes that belong to us
Required, too, a little fuss
So they would look brand-new.
At last, my windows, nice and clear,
Caused my apartment to appear
Like it’s all good until next year
When guilt will bubble through.
Line of inquiry:
“Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version”
A child I was, when Nuns taught me in school;
so God was with me from an early age.
The catechism shaped for me each rule-
my soul's foundation at this tender stage,
to help unlock a door I would engage.
My reading about God was not the key-
but seeing what He is- enlightened me.
That feeling that He's near in all I do,
the balances of nature, my guarantee-
internal hymns of love, faith, hope, accrue.
I sing the hymn of Love through family,
and feel God's care is echoed from each heart.
I sing the Hymn of Faith, a tapestry
of sunset glow that leads to a fresh start,
and sing my Hymn of Hope on new day's chart.
Love, Faith, and Hope are His Amazing Grace-
my heart and soul, with God there, interface.
It’s not magic, though absolutely true
one image torn, two visions accrue
not a triptych, but someone new
a third party twists the view
deforming what he knew
came out of the blue
but why, but who?
a dear John
Billet
doux
Photon, poison. Photograph.
Fates and Furies, laugh.
Engrave, O my epitaph.
Chart a graph, you chaff.
Hated are the sights around!
All done poor and bad.
Holy ground, surround? Unsound.
That will make them sad.
Garbage rich and decent poor.
Rhythm, rock and roll.
Summoned, system? Are you sure?
Opinion, thy poll.
Competition? But from who?
Faces turning blue?
Hopes of you? Will these accrue?
Fondue, thy stew! Through.
Boredom. How the hours fly.
Time, you do math hard.
Lately I feel desert dry.
Fried in lard? Pulled, card.
Wisdom. Suffering, you rang?
Bite, O boomerang.
Stories told in slang? Taste, tang?
Gone out with a bang.
Clang! O prison gate, why wait?
Wasted lands, be home!
Staggered gait? I've come in late?
Wife out on the loam!
Foam in mouth, O rabid dog?
Slaver, how you burst!
Waterlog? High hog, thy slog!
Came in last and worst...
body fatigue diminishes not soul’s light
though no doubt it has to be attended to
to savour the bliss of magnetic delight
cascading within form whose each hue is new
cognised by our spiritual eye’s clear sight
as blessings of grace continue to accrue
that thus situation any we dance on
in time dissolved silence breath by breath reborn
some hands hurt us yet others assisted
so in truth what’s there left for us to do
no life event is by us resisted
outcomes any bliss beats within renew
clear light dawns as God’s blessings that accrue
we dwell in time stretched peace and judge no one
for are we not the light that lights the sun
we join not the dots, so there’s nothing missing
there is nothing to attain, much less to do
as in-form polarities go on kissing
refrains of rapture continue to renew
and with no ego in the background hissing
boundless grace from God continues to accrue
representing thus is-ness of being-ness
entwined for all eternity with oneness
clusters tend to blind the eyes
overwhelm and hypnotise
I appreciate how that occurs
temporarily reality blurs
daisies fade and daisies wilt
though Earth remains on its same tilt
constant vase sometimes contains bliss
I'm temporal and aware of this
I watch as time demonstrates this fate
there is no sense asking time to wait
nor comfort in letting time past conflate
with our present or future state
each burst of joy that bloomed in view
was gift in moment and threat in lieu
yet yin and yang cannot accrue
and balance is the resting hue
I'm temporal in the schemes and storms
constants are not truthful forms
though Earth remains it can't contain
daisies if there are no rains
temporarily we pause or rush
I appreciate calm in the hush
overwhelm there taught to rest
clusters tended will manifest
My nephew is tolerant and fair
Not impressed with a sea of dyed hair
His high school teachers think he's a gem
But he's dismayed by kids wanting to be called they/them.
My niece had a problem with the school bathroom
Other girls vaping marijuana, can't stop, I assume.
I myself don't think it nice
To tell kids to go out and protest ICE.
(chorus)
It's past time we leave the kids alone
Let their worldview start at home
Don't try to reshape them by degrees.
Concentrate on teaching ABC's.
The NEA says teachers must push "gender, class and race."
Seems to me that they are talking out of place.
We spend over 20,000 per student nationwide.
But with those math scores, teachers should hide.
(bridge)
Kids learn slogans, learn what to say,
But can’t explain how loans accrue each day.
Teach them how to think, not what to think,
Then let the cause pushers into the rink.
(final chorus)
It's past time we leave the kids alone
Let their worldview start at home
Let their spirit be carefree
Replace those gender posters with ABC.
I am grateful for the trees…
my respect in life they’ve earned…
by teaching some of the many lessons
from nature I have learned.
From the trees I’ve learned to stand tall
and not be afraid to go out on a limb…
to bend in the wind…not break
even when the winds are grim..
I’ve learned to be content with my own beauty…
to welcome any wrinkles that accrue
and always….whatever stage of growth I’m at…
to stop,
look around…
“When creativeness steals my mind~
from all else, I'm trapped and blind.”
__by Poet
Another poem I must write
so little time to get it right.
A brand new contest beckons me-
awakens my poetic sight.
Must set aside the chores I see
to meet the call of what's to be.
For when I'm captured, I must do
whatever helps to set me free.
From mind to heart, words will accrue
creative visions that are true;
address the theme with the rules sought
to write a poem, fresh and new.
And so begins this battle fought
for in this web, my being's caught
to end the challenge with deep sighs-
till captured once again in thought.
we’ll be parasocial (enjoy one-sided emotional relationships).
practice ineffective communication
swim the algorithmic swamp
speak insurance language
soak in social exhaustion
trigger and be triggered
relish anti-affordability
do the bare minimum
embrace a conspiracy
manage our topics
accrue aura points
enjoy resenteeism
take the rage-bait
overuse backlash
seem authentic
explore AI sex
digitally clash
be bias blind
scroll away
rage-farm
deepfake
Job hugg
glow up
buy gas
ick date
go viral
resist
drip
.
.
Songs for this:
NOT CUTE ANYMORE by ILLIT
Who Knows by Daniel Caesar
vibrations in-pour from the universe
thus doing nothing, we conjure a verse
we do nothing yet all doings are done
the mind of God and our soul is now one
adorned by stardust falling like light rain
refrains of bliss play again and again
each love hue is new like fresh morning dew
we gratefully let God’s blessings accrue
A soft, subtle, silent breeze of bliss blows,
enlivening nodes, eager to imbibe
elixir so sublime, heart alone knows,
delighting seeing the Phoenix revive.
Moment by moment, all moments entwined,
we watch how bliss ignition does renew,
as rapture peaks, our soul divine aligned,
in surrender feeling blessings accrue.
A bliss blob is implanted at our crown,
which we may take to be the hand of God,
wherefrom stream of love flows, in which we drown,
our presence by this epiphany awed.
If we be still, voids within us will fill,
making easy our soul’s ascent uphill.
instead of doing, choose positioning
present in the now feeling each bliss hue
resting thought and thereby conditioning
toroidal heart pure like fresh morning dew
receptive to God’s grace that does accrue
we ascend although there is no one here
save spasms borne by bliss that does heart endear
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