I'm in fine form on this sunny afternoon
Feel like frolicking like a silly baboon
What's strange about that
Quite normal for this brat
Brought into this world with a bent silver spoon
We love to hear an echo, resounding and abounding,
reverberating our words off walls and harbingers,
replaying and soothsaying our views and opinions.
We seek the places and spaces, and company within earshot
of what we want to hear, filtered in subtle ways
to sound like something new and fresh
repeated over and over again, rejigged and re-rigged.
'Coo-ee', 'coo-ee' we cry!
Is there anyone out there,
who cares to hear us, beyond our
obsession with seeing ourselves
echo-reversed in the mirror?
But, even this mirror-echo is an illusion because
the mirror swaps front and back, not left and right.
We filter the image to perceive the reflection as a person
standing facing us, looking back.
So even the mirror's echo is bent
into the way we want reality to be filtered.
In nature, being adroit and straight is rare,
It's curves and bends that fill the air.
See rivers that twist,
Trees bent to resist,
For strength lies in being bent, not straight.
Bent knees if you please!
They've always been this way.
No doubt about it,
I stagger along like a sailor in a storm!
Far be it from me,
I live too far from the sea.
So, I have bent knees,
The children do tease.
I shiver and shake,
Too much teasing,
I can't take!
I can get from point A to B,
Without anyone teasing me!
Finding my way,
Can result in a little time.
People offer to help me,
Check to make sure I dine.
Too much teasing you see,
Can make me crabby!
Then I hoped on a horse,
All is not lost!
I fit perfectly,
No more teasing for me!
Running out of time to act,
flashes in the mind.
Running out of everything,
too late to hit rewind.
Wake and take a hammer to it,
crush it to the bone.
Pulverize what’s left of it,
make sure all life is gone.
Disregard the letters
in the alphabet arranged,
set to spell the answers out
cuz no one wants the plain.
Go on, drink the poison down.
Taste it coat the tongue.
Pleasure covered minutes
laced to form the web now spun.
Make sure every fool who falls
who couldn’t gain control,
stays trapped forever contemplating…
what the demon stole.
In dreams, I’m where the music plays.
I’m listening to the laughter, like it’s in another room.
My drink is dark, bitter and oaky tasting
and the peanuts taste like soap.
There aren’t any napkins.
Others are lines of light and shadow.
I feel an anxiety that I gnaw on,
like a dog works a bone.
My dream’s conflating memories.
Suddenly Lisa’s there,
she comes up from behind,
“Aww, your tag is sticking out,” she says,
but before she can fix it,
I hear tower bells.
It’s my alarm.
.
.
Webster: Conflate: “to blend or bring together.”
Your version of sober is not mine,
I do not blame you I blame culture;
Wasted words you will not remember,
probably better to stay silent;
For me an unaltered state is fine,
that’s not for everyone I am sure;
I’d rather not end up hung over
I would like to talk about time spent;
You are claiming clean on that bender,
my definition was never bent.
Bent askew, with shadow straight as a die
reflecting my every move and mood
I dwelt upon the hidden grace of being bent.
For curved things are strangely stronger
than straight things, so rare in nature.
So prone to shatter to pick-up-sticks, straight bits
when compliant and inflexible.
Fearing the wind will turn you into a statue
if you flap, furl, curl and yield to change,
and take a backward step, arching back,
away from the straightforward.
.
She never looked
mine
saddest write
Eight yellow
Blooming roses
Regular roasted coffee
With irish cream
not a wink
I offered her
The Groupon
She acted az it wuz
the grope’on
She never looked
i felt though
the breeze uv her
middle digit’s
flick
*can ya believe it...yep
LOL ;) i had to share it....
It's funny the simple pleasures recounted in life
all manner of wonders reminisced I'll miss most..
though list grows shorter with each passing day
thoughts align in proper time as desires sway
storm bent trees, sunsets, a child's laughter,
and chicken salad on toast.
To be true others may find want of finer things.
fancying first class flight or latest in 'lectric cars,
refined tastes in Nanterre brioche or imported caviars
yet never replace good company a heart brings.
As winter closes, and spring finds its way home,
eternally grateful for all new pleasures won
give thanks warm day's return in rising and setting sun
yet alone, to bygone days my thoughts may roam.
Yeah, there'll always be chicken salad and sunsets..
perhaps a slice of keylime pie or two.
When I look back to a wonderful past,
what I'll miss most
is you.
Why are so many humans bent on destruction
Why are we always seeking stuff we don't have
It is so inconsistent with our loving nature
Share and share alike sounds about right to me
I'm talking about the average joe
Actually we're a bunch of happy old souls
I'm sure if we were to take a worldwide survey
The overwhelming result would show
95% of us guys would be happy old souls
So next time it feels like the sky is falling
Smile and sing a happy song and the world
Will feel like a big happy place again
BENT
Can one turn and live in ways
They’ve never done before?
Can natural heart be bent around
To do what’s not inclined?
My way is mine and yours is yours.
We seek our way so much,
For this is how we’re bent.
Yes, we’re bent, where God would have us straight.
Formed in crooked shapes, we mar the earth,
With ego goals for self—desperate, stubborn,
And full of blame.
We lay back in our carnal ease,
Or press ahead with no true empathy or love
For those we’ve left behind or who get into our way.
The crooked heart can find
No lasting peace and joy to fill the empty soul.
O man, return to Him who knows you best,
To One who made you from a piece of clay and spit.
He knows your frame and how sin’s bent your mind
Into crooked ways that only He can straighten out.
Copyright, Kathryn Search
once 'tis done
deed 'tis spun
can't unpick
a launched lance's
path to bulls eye
Is time distorted
or our memory of time
A finite connection
—dimension sublime
(Driggs Idaho: September, 2021)
Getting angry or upset,
Makes yourself later regret.
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