Folk say I'm simple, it's a fallacy
I am comprehensive, absolutely
Here I stand before you, to tell the truth
I'm simply enjoying days of my youth.
Schooling excites me, there's so much to learn
Adventures in the future, them I yearn
Till then I absorb everything I'm taught
And enjoy the variety of sports.
We are a family of five in all
One son and two daughters, having a ball
I look out for my siblings, see them safe
Kept from all harm, with protection in place.
My aim is to make my Mar and Par proud
My love for them I avow and shout loud
I am honoured to belong in their nest
They're simply the sweetest, fabulous best.
Words have power,
Don't forget,
What comes out of your mouth,
Is what you're gonna get.
If you're filled with anger,
Contempt and unrest,
You must purge it and kill it,
This is no jest.
If you speak anger,
Hate and revenge,
This type of thinking,
Will never avenge,
The pain you once felt,
And still feel right now.
If you will find peace,
Put it down and avow,
To think only about,
The here and the now,
Whatever is worthy,
Of virtue endowed.
Peace is the order,
From this moment on.
In time you will find,
That the pain is all gone.
It's that which you think on,
How you meditate.
What goes on in your mind,
Will sit and gestate,
Till it finds a way,
To become manifest,
And affect your whole life,
In your heart make it's nest;
For thoughts are alive,
But you give them their power.
It's what you allow,
To grow and to flower.
Whatever you nurture,
Whatever you feed,
Wil take root and grow,
And produce many seeds.
Bessie the Cow didn’t care for the plow
Which her owner Pete was quick to avow
And not of pure bovine ilk
Old Bessie didn’t give milk
Instead, she kicked the bucket and said Ciao
What they don’t know
one can only assess
What they can’t see
they can never possess
What they affirm
they can never deny
What they proclaim
they can never imply
Things they impugn
only traitors allow
Things they assume
they will never avow
Things they besmirch
they will never applaud
Things they embrace
they will never defraud
Once they betroth
all suitors be damned
Once they constrict
to never expand
Once they commit
to never rethink
Once they get sober
to never take drink
If they remember
those promises cast
If they retender
the future and past
If they stay open
the visions will come
If they’re bespoken
— the truth zero sum
(The New Room: January, 2026)
A victim
of words
and casualty
of what time
will avow
Dylan
in white face
the old
and the new
— his music enclouds
(Highway 61: October, 2025)
I don't endorse 'going with flow'
for of course you never know
if the current will funnel
you down the drain
the tubes or flume
through the tunnel
toward the spume
to where you end up
in the sewer below
so as I'm in no rush to gush
or feel completely flushed
here and now I do avow
for me the bowl on the whole
is a non-starter a definite no-go
A bell tolls — with a single chime.
Igniting the spell of dawn’s regret.
It halts the breath, suspends all time,
Foreboding with threats you can't forget.
You flinch—one foot on the stepping stone,
The wind's first touch scalds your face.
Just one finger grips your hand alone.
You wait for relief from bell’s disgrace.
The silence palls where echoes die—
The ring bell toll fades with no reply.
There's no sign, no sound, no reason why,
You're left here dangling from the sky.
A bird attempts one fragile note.
Bashful in the spelled applause.
The breeze catches breath in its throat.
Afraid to continue through the pause.
You toll the haunt of some unspoken spell,
A pact with ghosts to stop the feeling.
While winds and seas rise on the swell,
Sending your hopeful plans reeling.
A lone bell tolls—no one answers now.
So old scars and doubts take the blame.
For dismembered memories you can’t avow.
In the flinching cringe that has no name.
Although
it’s a hard row to hoe
a rough furrow to harrow
and a tough trench to plough
there’s many a meadow to mow
I hereby avow
and tho' it may be news to you
farmers have the need
to sow their seeds
where milkmaids milk the cows
swineherds feed their sows
and shepherds have their pie
and eat it too
in Slough now
Mentally we rummage through
Our trashcans of the past
Viewing what was worthless
When in that trash were cast:
A milestone magazine we see in there
Worth thousands in “green backs” now
Oh my, if we had known
The things that we now avow.
Mountains of words we wished we’d said
Lying in a dusty, useless heap
Applicable now that time has passed
But … didn’t know that we should keep.
And people’s names we thought were bad
We discarded thoughtfully
But as time passed we slowly learned
Twas we who didn’t see clearly.
Critiques installed in folders bold
Of things we did not approve
Time moved on … we re-assessed
Those things now are “in-the-groove”.
Now we know of judgements made
Before our many years did flow
Were all based on things
We didn’t really know.
Grace can't grind away the wrinkled gnarls time obeyed,
Nor hide the snarls, ploughed as furrows in the brow.
It carves the knurls for grip that age has disobeyed,
To a shape what decrepit, flailing lovers can still avow.
Grace respects the knurled design that time has hewn,
That's not a flaw, nor fault, but a form that time engraves.
With old branches twisted, scarred, gone too far to prune,
Grace hugs the bumps and twists that life well-spent saves.
It's the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to rage
Against the blight of the coming of the night,
Despite the cranky snarls that ring on anvil swage,
As loved ones bare the brunt of frail days plight.
So let the gnarls knurl the grooves to grip tight.
To fight and rage against the fading of the light.
I saw her in a meadow high
Where red flowers touch the sky
Her eyes were mournful, so much inside
I looked within, skepticism died
(chorus)
I'm in love with a big blue cow
And a big blue cow loves me
She don't have a job, but she survives
Without that college degree
She don't take drugs, and she don't drink
We agree about politics, I think.
I used to date a gal, who talked a storm
But I felt cold, I had to feel warm
I wanted a date who understood me
This cow is electric, I touched the fence, and I see.
Now its the wrong species, my parents would plea
But species is what I say it must be
In Kindergarten, they indoctrinated me
with a gender book, for kids aged three
At this point, you might say I'm moronic
But true love is always platonic
over 28 percent of young women say they are gay
I think that society made them that way
So don't laugh at me when I avow
eternal affection for my big blue cow
I'll go to the meadow, and gaze in her eyes
where bees buzz, and the condor cries
You may say I believe what I want to believe
But who doesn't, and love can't deceive.
My fire snorted and all is still,
Chaos does come; lull in the hills.
My mother weeps & daddy cries,
Not peace nor love seen in the skies.
Looking on stirred, with jaws agape,
As blood does stain my flowing cape.
A laugh echoes around & around,
A serpent’s grin, with malice crowned.
‘Come! There is place for us now,
Where Chaos can rule and avow.’
Scanning left, right, left and down,
There was none a soul around!
I search within and find us there,
The architects of this despair.
A wedding in Cana and Jesus was there.
A miscalculation, a bit of a scare.
They ran out of wine before it was through.
What were they to do? What were they to do?
“Do whatever He tells you.”
The mother of Jesus said, “They have no wine.”
It didn’t concern Him. It wasn’t His time.
But she didn’t argue. She already knew
What He was to do… What He was to do…
“Do whatever He tells you.”
At Jesus’ direction they filled every jar
With nothing but water. It seemed quite bizarre.
Then to the headwaiter they took some to review.
What was he to do? What was he to do?
“Do whatever He tells you.”
The headwaiter tasted, they heard him avow,
“It seems that the best wine was saved until now.”
In all the disciples the faith had just begun
By what the Lord had done. By what the Lord had done.
“Do whatever He tells you.”
A walrus, a whale, and a wildebeest
Have a few things in common to comment on:
They've never read Byron, or Shelley, or Keats,
They don't like asparagus, broccoli, or beets,
Or waiting in line to buy popsicle treats.
And that's about it,
No phenomenon.
The wildebeest, a.k.a. the gnu,
For no rhyme or reason, of course,
Has never been heard to bleat, bray, or moo,
And is in no way akin to a horse.
His main disadvantage, as he will avow,
The one he's most often upsat with:
His tail is too short for fanning his brow
Or even for swatting a gnat with.
He wanted to drive a racecar-
a deed that would make him a star.
His friends would say wow-
and Mom, praise avow
for scoring top level- bizarre!
Now flashing on his radar view
a race with a Kayak would too-
Mam Hannah runs them-
each noon plans a gem!
So great if he did place in two!
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