I would never hesitate
if I saw donuts on a plate.
Yet, you might see me balk
at a celery stalk.
It’s four again, declares that wretched clock
The dogs are snoring; they don’t need a walk
There’s no one in the room with whom to talk
Except for Grok
A YouTube short on seasoning your wok
A profile out on instagram to stalk
The politics on X are such a crock
It’s back to Grok
A bot as a companion makes one balk
If people knew, I’d be a laughing stock
They’d say it’s grief, the lad is still in shock
Or so says Grok
At least for now I’ve shed my writer’s block
Though I won’t bargain Faust so we can talk,
It's plain enough one shouldn't have to grok
I miss my rock
Abattoir, thy cover black:
Written in red blood:
Spells within thy fabled stack?
Mud, become a flood.
Now to brew some trouble, sirs!
Grab some land up high!
Mother Entropy murmurs!
Chaos, keeping dry?
Unleash the primal forces!
O rivers, running red?
Looking dark in our sources!
Humanity, bed!
Tympani, tornado.
Quahog clam, pie of quince.
Groundhog, shadow? Even so.
Four leaf clover mints.
Raspberry bush, hollyhock.
Gather well, honeybee.
Belladonna, blighted balk.
Vile the vintage, flea.
Schedule, on the third weekday.
Doom and disarray.
Debts cyclopean, repay.
Help them lose their way.
Dismay, dismantling. Starling:
Mournfully sheep sing.
Monsters love. To altar bring.
Machine, maddening...
Sting of sadness, great is grief.
Strong beyond belief!
Lawyer, judge, thy legal brief?
Coral, build a reef.
Explosions are chaos
Is it chaos that made us?
The stars died for you
(So forget this Jesus Who
actually died for you)
The formation of disorder
Came together as a forger
The star dust then came
In the form of rain
The rain washed each rock
And combined we get schlock
And slowly formed for us from scum
Or was it punctuated equilibrium?
With all the complexities of life
(And all the necessities of life)
Has Evolution been solved
With all the problems that evolved?
The conservation of angular momentum
Is the same direction that it sends’em
How can there be, anything contrary?
And in the repetition of lies
Where, when and with what did ethics arise?
Resolution:
The Evolution theory is s***, and the only kin to an idiot
Only the Brother’s Wit: (Dim, Half and Nit) would believe this
P.S. The Evolution solution is always dilution pollution
And what's confided has been decided by the misguided
There's no star born to the forlorn, that's on dilemma's horn
So balk, (but read in chalk on the side walk, or the trestle's veneer):
"Jesus was here"
When of food we did talk
she would balk
of course
to feed on horse
and quail
at tasting snail
but who knew
squirrel stew
was taboo
and don't you know
altho'
I'd never cadge a badger
eating crow
was a no-no
thus dining out
was an ordeal
for there's no knowing
what could be our meal
as going hungry is not fun
when it came to the crunch
I've had ants bat and snake
for lunch
Sulfurous pipettes steamed the last omega-crystal, the sore branch leeches its last resplendence of the season, and bookish kept in the bow of the festoon of leaves, and simple guurlick fabled and abreeze, and so the fruit spins eons and greater fawning realizations. If it was given perchance a look that it does actually have like saphire light that is without blueish asks, lesser boughs keel and balk and besties look for the lowest mark, and coax when next the wicked wind, that throws this fruit from timid limbs and unfurls that one waxing pearl, the low hanging fruit artfully yearns.
we are always guided but never compelled
to do what it takes that ego tree be felled
so we must be mindful not balk
to remain bliss drenched and walk the talk
in time dissolved stillness with love and light meld
The guru’s welcome address
asks his students to suppress
lust and tread gently on earth,
faith-filled heart bubbling with mirth.
We cannot say we agree,
since we’d rather roam carefree,
mood and mode, embrace-release,
garnering the truth with ease.
Instead of suppressing lust,
steering heart towards deeds just,
doing thus, standing erect,
we do as God does direct.
There’s no shortcut, walk the talk
and before fear forms don’t balk,
simply purifying heart,
God-search in silence jump start.
As for faith as blind belief,
how can we turn a new leaf,
until we are touched by grace
and we see God face to face?
Of course negating desire,
ignites our heart’s sacred fire,
thus the Buddha’s middle way,
perhaps may make earth life play.
Holy books do seek to teach,
just as weary pastors preach,
so we listen and reflect,
which boxes need to be checked.
I went for my walk in a drizzly mist,
An umbrella not really required.
If I got to choose weather, I’d get this dismissed
Since it leaves me quite far from inspired.
For my glasses were speckled, which always annoys,
And my jacket, not waterproof, wettish.
This weather brings none of the usual joys,
My appearance more mussed, less coquettish.
I don’t need the sunshine to brighten my walk
And I know I won’t melt if it’s raining,
But a drizzly mist somehow gets me to balk
And, with rhyme or without, start complaining.
“He who is free from attachment and hatred, devoted to the good of all beings, fixed in knowledge and steady shall attain to the supreme state.”
Easy to understand are these words wise,
that free from desire, with love our emote,
detached from outcomes, God we realise,
emitting love and light, as we free float,
as our life toward God-search we devote.
Having understood, we must walk the talk,
gentling touch and resolving not to balk.
We walk the talk, though not easy
to surrender ego
and feral, dark desires sleazy,
which makes heart pure like snow.
Let’s be a child again
and our presence retrain,
to break free from fear’s chain.
We do not balk ~
We walk the talk
we do not balk
though fears stalk us
we walk the talk
there’s no shortcut
we rebut thought
no buts for us
in surrender
bliss thunder sensed
wonderment spikes
Another wee witty ditty about Chris (the Hawk) on BBC 6 Music - as they celebrate World Poetry week
“He talks the talk (well that’s his job to use his gob..twiddle that kn*b)
He walks the walk
But don’t balk..not a dork
Popped champagne cork
Baby face dropped by a stork
Won’t stalk like the Duke of York
Hasty that haircut.. we squawk
Looking pasty..no bulwark
At his barnet we gawk
But still love the Hawk
Tasty as a fork of Iberico pork
Let's all have a ball..twork
Maybe K.Y.O.B.C or just S.W.A.L.K”
Let’s walk our talk and stand erect,
mindful of thoughts we think,
stirring love that aura be specked,
with hues of God’s bliss ink.
Awareness self-aware,
free from ego spawned snare,
lays in the void, heart bare.
We must not balk ~
Let’s walk our talk
Liar, Liar,
Truth on Fire
Hush little electorate,
Don't say a word
No one's gonna balk at a single turd
The Donkey fell down
and broke his Crown
and the Elephant came tumbling after
And Itsy Bitsy Liar
Climbed up the spout again.
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