Is it just exscuse or ignorance
Its been over twenty four year
Shes still taking this substance
She is so bang on the gear
Though often says her reliance
Could one be anymore sincere
How anyone has the paitance
I am suprised she is still here
Perhaps a high level of tolerance
Though has little worrie or fear
What seems like a life sentance
For which l would stay well clear
An old write 2014 follow on to a stark reality
Chasing the light written rewritten 2020
One might think
you're the apple of my eye
make it icing on the cake
or better yet cherry on the pie
but all that stuff is not enough
for there's more at play
which I'll describe in detail now
and believe you me when I say
you're the prize in my cracker
for all you are and all you do
not only that you're the paper hat
give life a snap and you're the riddle too
stagnant water still
stale grief slithered shattering —
finch twitters be free
path a hundred deaths
shake chains raining draining blood ~
write novels free be
turgid losses drown
in insolence they waited …
wife escaped be free
break bones to reach cave
courage climbs steps and steeps __
weep not nights free be
rods crack cords unfurl
ten thousand miles in riddles ~
shed shackles be free
eat parrot’s peanuts
pantry is empty laugh loud …
observe pain free be
smoothly plane cuts through
staring at unwinding space —
judgement flies be free
time moves then stands still
doors bang on open escape ~
awareness free be
petals circular
align with Sun straight down spine …
eyes dazed be free
~::~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~::~
Quickly grabbed my briefcase
My brolly fought the rain
I sped to the station
Only just caught my train
Bang on nine… my boss rants
You’re here… but where’s your pants?
Musical Muse you come to play
Leave me confused as I wait
For the tune you sing to fade
So I can dream, write, pray
I feel you close but can not see
Your face I’m sure is of beauty
You for sure have huge white wings
For you’re fast to pass your laugh to me
Musical muse when I was a girl
You gave me songs for the world
Then I’d bang on the toy piano
Now that I’m grown where’d that go
Musical muse wave your wand
Play me music from my heart song
Dance and prance the night on
Chance you inspire me to be strong
My fox screams and yells in utter disbelief, a glass wall silencing his pleas
I can only watch in utter display as my fox slowly but surely withers away
You may ask, ‘Why didn’t you help?’ or ‘Why just watch him fall?’
But the horrid, harsh truth is, I tried everything and nothing works at all
The glass cage, is seventy millimeters thick, much too tough for even an icepick
Yelling and begging that my fox stay calm, leaves him confused and much too headstrong
For the silence between us goes both ways, whether I push or tug, it always causes us dismay
I would bang on the glass, crying out his name. Yet the fox just sits there, immersed in his pain
Of course his isn’t the only pain in the room. For my feet are shackled, in barbed wire, I’d assume
As I walk around the cage and bang on the glass, the wires cut deeper as I trespass
I’m desperate to help, for it all to go away. But the magician is still here, finding glee from our pain
And finally when the hour strikes nine, all motion ceases, except for mine
My special fox is dead, while I stand unwillingly, surrounded in my pool of red
telephone rang
time was bang on
hope sprang in heart
March 2020
A serene morning.
I rouse to no ding.
Am I daydreaming?
I languorously lock my eyes on a clock.
It is getting on for 10 o'clock.
A muffled bang on the door.
I am not alone at home?
My wispy feet stomp on the floor,
Eyes engrossed in the spyhole.
A girl in a white top.
Grotesque features I evoke.
Her bright red lips mutter on
'2024,...'
'Calls you to the main floor.'
Oh, my…oh…my sad heart’s bang on broke,
Bidding adieu, to my lover, a sweet bloke.
A tall, brunette sailor, going back to the sea.
In duress, I moaned, what’s to become of me?
Without his eyes, the deep color of the sea.
And his tanned ,muscular arms to encircle me.
I rested my arms on the railing, as his ship pulled away,
Knowing, I’d recall this moment forever and a day.
Come back, come back, dearest sailor of mine.
To love me once again and stroll in God’s sunshine!
4/24/2023
Even if she were a whore
With a visible moral sore:
The licentious from her jaw,
Largely The Deprived or poor,
A fool seeming to the core,
On all days A Bore
But broke A Toothless Law,
You mustn’t her on paper draw,
On her invective pour
Nor bang on her door…
These, a raising of dust and more,
For The Law silly defenses would floor.
I
Background radiation raises temperature everywhere in the universe to a few degrees above Absolute Zero. Big Bang couldn't do this level of homogeneity. Besides the Universe is too vast for each part to have had contact with all other parts
II
A good illustration goes thus: a heater in a cold room, or any source of heat, will eventually reach all space in the room and a erage out the temperature. But The Universe is no small, or huge room. The was no time with the Big Bang to allow "eventually" evening out the heat in the Universe.
III: the solution
The problem is labeled THE HORIZON PROBLEM. The answer centers on Someone or Something having finetuned the universe from the very beginning. No random process could achieve this ... But we want to keep our Big Bang. Another "solution"* us the Theory of Inflation, that allows the Big Bang to hang or bang on.
* Earlier in January 2022, I did write on Inflation Thoery of the Universe
Every step she takes rocks her world.
A butterfly is a dragon.
Life is a beast that must be slain.
It rips her heart apart with its cruel fangs
Leaving a red raw wound.
The pain is so immense that she can hardly stand
Every touch is a branding.
It burns a mark on her heart that cannot be erased.
She cares too much.
She would crawl through hell
She would bang on the gates of heaven
for those she loves.
But love means pain.
Love is the brand that marks her heart.
Life shreds, love burns
but existence without them would be empty.
So the pain is a gift.
My little boy on rainy days
The tin pots are out to stay
On those days very dry
Some hold vegetables; some meat fry
Bang on the unused pots, baby
Today's your day for fun ~maybe
My little boy; make some noise
Little one; use them for your toys
Oh! It is raining~ again
Listen to, all that den
Little one, get the spoon
Hit the side, to rain's tune
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Contest: Nursery Rhyme 2
Date written: 03/15/2021
I was remembering my mother used to tell me a rhyme that she said her boyfriend wrote to her for Valentine's day. My mother was born in 1901 and was a teenager around 1914 so a very long time ago.
Her friend wrote her this poem:
I love you a little
I love you a lot
I love you enough to fill ten pots
Eight wash tubs and 3 dishpans
So my thoughts for writing this comes from this little poem my mother told me when I was a teenager.
Russian dance groups blow me out of the water
Their synchronized patterns are amazing for every watcher
None out of line
Bang on every time
What dya think, maybe I too could be a dancer
When we are wrong (this might be trite),
the way we feel is watertight.
So what’s the deal?
How does it feel?
It feels bang on like being right.
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