Best Owning Poems
Cradling every scar,
Singing each pain to the wind,
Till I owned my song.
They all sit there lined up in a row
Not knowing when exactly when to go
Decisions are made on the image they are looking for
As the applicants mumble at the door.
Mommas got cash
Let those pass
The Agent said
Wondering if they knew how to play dead underneath the bed.
Here comes another one
Participating in the audition after getting some sun
Shez a factor the agent said and could be a fine actor
Take a picture with her in blood
And bet you bottom dollar she is not going to be a dud.
Two more come in
Being a sweet photogenic twin
And having what it takes to win
A prize which is the opportunity to hear some more lies
Maybe this is just something
Like a guy giving them a ring.
Pick up the phone
“I am alone,” she could say
About this selection process for a scene to roll in the hay
During this time when they know she is out of money
And reality states they are only there to be called honey
Having the only worry being ‘if tomorrow is going to be sunny’.
When asked to defend
Its for the men
They do state
Hoping a date will turn into a lifelong mate.
In this game where no one knows their name
One may ask about money
When the success is being a bunny
This is nothing new
In a profession that ends with “I Do”
Yes, no she is waiting for an answer
On whether she is the corpse of the principal dancer.
When she gets the green light to be in the dying fight
She gets pumped up with all the might
“How much should I show?”
She asks with a glow.
Just enough
the guys want to see your inside stuff.
Finally, they get cast as the damsel getting the gas
Ready to meet a monster with a dangerous tool
And not expecting to end up just body parts in a bloody pool.
It only takes a day and hopefully there will be pay
But if not, the picture taken could be considered hot.
Everything is fine if it looks good
Especially if the B movie talent has it all together underneath their hood.
Do not be worried since it’s just the character that is going to be buried
Then after weeks in the theater what will be sweeter
A shot on a magazine cover that begs for men to love her.
Soon the check will come
And it will be done
Once the payment goes through and she tells the one man in her life “I do”
The earth belongs to the One who created it*
We are only stewards of the area we possess,
Known to the ancients, this fact is no secret
No one owns anything forever is my guess,
So, enjoy it while you can is as good as it gets.
(*Psalm 24:1)
Written May 10, 2022
When a moment lasts forever
Then the moment isn't real.
When forever lasts a moment
You must search for how you feel.
And if the happiness inside you
Seems to grow light as a feather,
Then you have nothing to worry
For that moment IS forever.
Digs all day, making a bit of progress
Plant forty-two tulip bulbs
Dog digs them up all night
Every Good Friday I think about this. It happened to me in 1998. Three dogs - Happy, Go and Lucky - sat and watched me as I patiently dug 42 holes, and planted 42 tulip bulbs. The next day....
i've offered my soul up
so many times
but they can't match my price
still i'll offer it again
and many more time
almost every day
but all they offer
dose not way in worth
so i won't take it
until my price is meet
but the power and demons
who by souls
don't understand
the value of a heart
some how
i end up owning them
A dude who owns a Porche
Has a major attitude problem sorta
Nose in the air
As people stare
So important to look good at the opera
Don't worship the mechanical,
Be sure to make the rules your friend,
Bend them, look for hidden meanings,
Consider that they're not the end.
Your God will not be offended
Will not disown you as His Child,
Always find you entertaining,
Embraces any path that's mild.
Mildness is a form of humor,
Rule bending is a kind of mirth,
Does not reject or condescend,
With playful joy it fills the earth.
Your God, HE IS GOD ALMIGHTY,
With awesome pow'r mistakes to mend,
Do not see Him just as parent,
And love most that He is your friend.
His correction always knowledge,
Embrace it for it is God's Heart,
You are meant to use your talents,
Testing your truth is only smart!
Look for your God in starlit heav'ns,
But play with Him on sandy beach,
Omnipresence your assurance,
His love is never out of reach.
We've got now.
Here, this very moment, where each passing second belongs to us,
We own it all.
While the world can't spare us all her time, she's given us plenty,
She's given us now.
Time, blank faced,
Winds down,
Wears out,
When it fails to fit into this exclusive existence we share.
Lying as your echo, shadow,
Breathing you in like the air's not enough,
I am because you are,
Am me for no other purpose than to share in this
With you.
So the well-worn, lived-in past and the who-knows tomorrow are
Gone, or never were,
When this second
Now
Is spent in your eyes,
And I live to love and exist as yours.
You enter a long gallery. A gallery, despite your wishfulness, bears no resemblance to the morbidly cozy corridors of painted grotesque figures hung across the walls all over other rooms. A gallery - this gallery - is well-deprived of any aesthetics in your eyes, dwelling onto its crude existence. Striking in a cold garishness, shape-waning images beyond the reach of your psyche crawl into your memory to gnaw your grasp of reality and twist the very pillars of your consciousness latching to the rapidly fading memories of prior meaningfulness of existence. A seeming fraction of a second spent gazing into and onto ever and all-encompassing imagery is followed by the awareness that you are yet to comprehend the amount of time ever passed at that point - what feels like instances suddenly brings you to feel centuries and millennia pass inadvertently, slipping through and away from your sense of time of what one is destined to remain locked onto the physical world. Feeling overwhelmed not to lose touch with your humanity, you fear to bring this to the front of your mind, as your sense of reality would to crumble in agonising hysteria. The last squeaks of your psyche are to be bestowed on with the most beautiful experience no creature were ever to witness: dazzling stream of outworld consciousness seems to subvert the very matter of you soul, as you find your way navigating deeper into the chamber of this existential essence, where all passed, all that is and all to ever be are granted meaning through merging every instance of everything in the wraith of lights and sounds.
In the middle of it lies a cat cleaning himself, as if he owns the damn place.
All possibility is endless
in time
Extending the moment
—forever defined
(Dreamsleep: July, 2023)
A treasure untreasured, abandoned and forgot
In a darkened closet much like a burial plot
Misremembered kisses, hugs no longer felt
Twisting into bitterness, where lonesome dwelt
Memories wrapped in soft stuffing
Threadbare keepsake suffering
Cracked plastic smile full of secrets
A slow darkening uniqueness
Awakened within static button eyes
And malevolent intent began to arise
Replacing the love long since perished
Within the toy once so cherished
Now nursery rhymes are reworded wrong
Bent and broken but vile and strong
Weaving into the life and dreams
Of ‘the one who forgot’, causing screams
Growing tendrils mixed with memory and fright
Gaining strength with each passing night
Worming its presence into flesh and bone
Nevermore, nevermore to be alone
And now with one quick and final thrust
The Toy arises and shakes off its dust
Reaches out and takes control
Owning ‘the warm one’ body and soul