I have two mirrors.
One images the exterior.
One images the interior.
I use both of the mirrors.
The first mirror is of the type
That most of us commonly share.
The second mirror is mine to choose.
For me, that choice is the Bible.
If I'm not pleased with what I see,
I have the option of alteration.
Alterations with the first mirror
Are easier to master than the second.
The mirror of the Bible is much more
Revealing and exposes the inner me.
It also offers me a recipe for change.
Some recipes are less tasty than others.
It makes no allowances for choosing my
Own recipes. The recipes of the Bible are
Designed with me in mind and has no additives Nor man- made ingrediences. It is perfect.
Love - so fragile and yet so strong
Limitless ways expressed in poetry or song
To describe such a word as powerful as "love"
Words fall short - even in heaven above -
To remotely begin to condense the intensity
Of such emotion with such profound density.
A swirling whirlpool of descriptive adjectives
In agreement and subjective additives,
Cannot ever describe the strongest element
As fragile as porcelain and as sheer relevant
As the keen-eye of a cuckoo bird.
Unlmited artists and lovers at a loss for words
To describe the essence of "love" - it's absurd!
Yet, they all fall short and at a loss
As their minds boggle and toss
Back and forth - to and fro
Is such a search necessary or should we just let go?
Just saying, "I love you," is it suffice to set it free
Or demonstrate love with our mere actions and let it be?
So strong, so brave, so tall, so elegant
So fragile, so sensitive, so kind, so relevant!
So tender, so gentle, and still yet so humble
That love's only blackhole stumble
Is when it is placed in the presence of a single lie...
Because love is 100% true reality
A lie is definitely love's fatality!
You are what you consume.
Through all 6 senses whether it is hearing, sight, smell, taste, touch and thought.
So surround your-self with the best of each of these.
You once mentioned, about seeing things just through the positive lens.
But remember clarity is the ability to see the clear picture.
Without additives such as colored emotions.
You will stumble once in a while.
But don't make it a long lasting habit.
Willingness will allow you to grasp at the absolute truths.
If only I could grow a beard
I would stroke it and appear wise
but I'm a'feared it's not to be
no matter how hard I tries
and I hate to think about it
as it always fouls my mood
on me the only hair which sprouts
is due to additives in U.S. food
tho' some are destined to be hirsute
my facial hair issues forth then fades
yet after all if nothing else
it saves on razor blades
none of heard the same words
for we are individuals are we not?
it is not our hearing that did not hear
it is the interpretive additives we add
for we are humans
living our own life
experiencing what no one else can
for they are not us
and we are not them
none of us saw the same things
for we do not seek sameness, we look for diversity
sameness makes more sense, but it is not our initial reaction
so we saw different things, because we were looking for them
the police detective threw up his hands and stalked off
not realizing that no one hears or sees in the same way
It's enough to make one chunder
there used to be a time Down Under
when fair dinkum the label on the tucker tin
only stated the true blue maker's name
and the Vegemite we'd eat for brekkie contained therein
while not a porky implied mate there's something to hide
with a shonky no responsibility disclaimer
I’m spewin’ cranky as today's focus is on what's not inside
no GMO cholesterol additives gluten calories caffeine nuts
no added colouring sugar preservatives
no artificial sweeteners monounsaturated
no polyunsaturated &/or trans fats
and bloody oath cobber that's not all as I recall
no worries tho' there's also low sodium
not whingeing but one wonders if it's a dodgy admission
there's no bonzer thingo within such as ace nutrition
meanwhile I'll fill my billycan from yon billabong
surrounded by a few emu and a roo or two
as up a gum tree the kookaburra laughingly looks on
there's nothing more I can do so may as well
bung another shrimp on the barbie blow the froth off a few
have one last blast on me didgeridoo Blue and shoot through
Acoustic and raw,
it doesn’t need additives;
Creeping up on you
so very unexpected,
the haunt in haunted rhythm;
Oh ravenous fiend
I can describe you as sound,
Acid on the drums;
Bouncers sit screening the door
not for I.Ds but hunger;
Inky bass line itch,
no words need to be written;
A Demon’s disco,
that sanctimonious scratch
electricity stutters.
Just clench your presence and perseverance per each severance/
as it enlightens your sense you can be relied on like plans for anchorage/
I see additives that help create and crate addicts/
The statistics sit in and add ticks to brackets/
Try to be ragged to flats of the packs and all dramatics/
Kids logistics of it tips influence to ruckus/
It pits persistence off his ship to a rut Gus/
With influences rough hardship is a smut bus but a must/
Given is prudence with buff-man ship guts/
Driven by tenants of the heart to make plans fit in/
Heaven like expectant's at the start grew quick dance a hip in/
Smitten by this exuberance as if it’s a mansion to live in/
What’s written is luminous if it’s to mention don’t give in/
A sentimental writer
tries to ram manufactured feelings
down our throats.
Those of us inclined toward an appreciation
of authentic emotions
will feel the bile rising
as we try to digest what we deem to be
indigestible.
A reader or a writer who -
like a connoisseur of fine foods and wines -
enjoys what is natural
and devoid of artificial additives
will (upon reading overly seasoned and flavored
sentimental poetry)
most likely wish to
literally vomit.
May 25, 2022 for Julia Ward's
Sentimentality Poetry Contest
You have the right to remain silent
but most of us never do,
we all have an opinion,
fact fake news or fiction
giving some of our wisdom to impart
knowing it doesn't always come from the heart,
we interpret what we think is said
and our mouths forge quickly ahead,
without thought or contemplation
additives upon our interpretation,
we fail to gather facts
and speak openly with little tact,
until someone finally calls our bluff
let's look a little deeper at all this stuff.
My feelings I store on empty shelves of shoulders that don't hold much but selfish needs. Preserved in salt to heal wounds and burn at once so to not forget the labels that have tested time, Patience and strength. Throughout time ,
I have tested waters flavored with agony's pungent seasoning knowing it's not for me nor suits my palate but I don't know yet if I'm the rancid offering or if the additives are spoiled. Tasteless, dry, almost dust like texture dashed on an unfavorable dish will always turn stomachs and noses away from edible sources. Why would one turn down a feast of delicacy for a home cooked bland ass meal. I would but that's because I know the value of blood sweat and tears not just how to lick my plate clean, snap fingers and silver set before me. .
Alliterative adjectives
Are like poetic additives
That rearrange raw rhythmic rhyme
So sonnets sound more-so sublime.
“Aggrieved aggressors,” “Angry Aunts”
“Outraged oppressors,” “Haunted haunts”
Are all alliterative bits
That prod poor poems into hits.
Consider how this very verse
Without alliteration would be worse.
For con-sequential consonants
Create quaint quotes of consequence.
when I waited the for ice cream truck
could buy something for a dime
spent my days at the pond
that’s when there was more time
take in a movie with popcorn
still had left over change
at the corner drugstore
counter stools were all arranged
my windshield would be cleaned
the engine got a bill of health
neighborhoods were amicable
those poor or with wealth
you maintained your own identity
no scoundrels to scam your security
things were out in the open back then
optimism was key, there was no obscurity
did not need Maalox for heart burn
foods were free from additives
no credit cards to spend freely
living then was more conservative
when home was home and not a camp
the Sunday dinner was a hearty meal
yes there was at time in my life
when life was young, quite the deal
YOGURT
This food is addictive for me!
No, not the cheap junk!
Pure artificial malarkey!
Masquerading in false yogurt dress!
It screams "probiotics" on it's side,
The cartons with gaudy colors hide.
It's truly a phony!
Better eat a slice of baloney!
Oh, phony yogurt you!
Filled with sugars and additives,
Chowed down by obese Americans,
Fooled by the deceptive companies,
Hyping the Lo-Fat deception.
That they are eating so right, they wonder,
"Then, tell me why are my pants are so darn tighter?
Panagiota Romios
4/6/2019
They poisoned almost everything
their grocery store could hold.
Where all they knew as additives
and modified was sold.
Then paid for politicians
to put labels on for mind.
That expedite designer death
through purchases in kind.
Then set their sites on living
as subscribed by heinous crime.
As they offered up to Health Care
their own sake on practiced dime.
That they all sublulved forsaken
for their faith in borrowed time.
As is all who gait by doctors
show their wait on serpent clime.
That the ones who rush on surgeants
only show their passion more.
As at heart to would stop halfway
af for sake and someone more.
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