Spotting the alternatives,
If you are not up to a spot of reading,
Could result in some serious head scratching.
Spotting the alternatives,
With no place to do some thinking,
Your sanity you could be risking.
Spotting the alternatives,
If you do too much drinking,
Makes it impossible to do any linking.
Spotting the alternatives,
Without stopping for some listening,
Will not change your positioning.
Spotting the alternatives,
If your skills don't lend to money making,
Will require more than your usual wisecracking.
Christmas seems to be a good time,
To look for alternatives in good time,
While we still can have a good time.
Christmas seems to bring out the best,
So we can be at our best,
And the worst does not look the best.
It may be the silly season,
But alternatives look best in this season than,
In any other season.
So Lets put some alternatives in our New Year Resolution,
Be prepared to stand by that resolution,
And not give in to an alternative resolution.
Christmas is the one time of year we can freely mix,
And put alternatives in the mix,
While drinks we mix.
Christmas is the time to appreciate our planet,
A time when we are not looking for an alternative planet,
But alternatives so we can stay on this planet.
Alternative medicine; made by God.
God wasn’t stupid, he made
Plants, by which, we can heal.
Alas, I look at my options and I panic
Bewildered by my choices that feel so gigantic
Clarity seems a bit elusive right now
Dastardly and evasive to me somehow
Establishing an anchor is what I should do
For that would improve my point of view
Grasping for answers that dangle on the cliff
Hoping they're not written in hieroglyphs
Inevitably, they require a Rosetta Stone
Jargon jealously guarded by my evil clone
Knowing the searching is part of the solution
Lamenting the struggle in my elocution
Meditation on the Word is my only plan
Never failing me in my whole lifespan
Odds and ends conspire to be a distraction
Perfidious doppelganger desires inaction
Quit guiding me into this nebulous analysis!
Rid me of this spiritual paralysis!
Send me alacrity and precision of thought
That I might be worthy of what I was taught
Ubiquitous indecision depart from my heart
Vacuous hesitance, you've no wisdom to impart
While I am still filled with God-given breath
Xerosis of my body and soul will halt until death
Yearning for the truth and hope will succeed
Zero energy will be spent on despair or misery
12-7-2016
It's time for the Americans
to try something new.
Let's all of us eschew the polls,
see what the pow'rs do.
So, what if there was not enough
of voters in the booths
to cast a vote one dumb jerk,
what would then be the truths?
I'd like to see a president
who cares about all of us
and would see to our human rights
without a great big fuss.
Those who have dropped out 'long the way
had 'portant things to say.
If we'd only supported them,
we'd not have mess today.
So, now I say to all voters,
rethink your voting stance.
If we don't take another way,
we will not stand a chance.
i am a better man just by being a scene on your presence
i do not know how you broke through my shield, but i am glad that you proved me wrong
you got a grip on my arm's length and made me come closer
putting up with me, i guess that is what it takes
i laugh at the oftentimes absurdity of my unorthodox shyness
the fact the i am appreciated by you upgrades me in a way i would have ever imagined
i still backslide a bit, but you just pull me along and say 'come on'
you showed me what i was missing and what i was completely blind to
you took my regrets in your hand and made homemade drop biscuits in ascension
now i have stories, memories, and something to look forward to
i am a better man just by being a mere observer in your essence
Altering native,
An alternative like Siberian snow cranes!
I can choose to kill this pain; let it lie
until all sense decays from off the bones
and upon their bleaching starkness hang
the chaff of life:
the unsympathetic hello,
the broken vows,
the endless sham of endless tramping
to and fro.
I can choose to till this pain; let it live
and learn to love the aching limbs I prune
with sorry Memory’s bitter knife;
hold within my breast this burning seed
till nourished on my blood,
watered with my tears,
new life springs forth from barren years.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson