Boiled down to its simplest element
our vitality is our power
it's the inner source of enthusiasm
that gives our life the effervescence
that makes it all worthwhile ~
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Today my thoughts are on Master Sergeant Joe D.
my brother who was four years younger than me.
Growing up Brother Joe was always the battler,
he took no one’s “stuff” and was never a prattler.
At twenty one I entered and Brother Joe came soon,
to the Army’s ways Joe seemed to quickly attune.
He rose to Master Sergeant in his twenty-three years,
four tours in Nam kept family in prayer and tears.
He was highly decorated and many proclaimed a hero,
but when life all boiled down it amounted to zero.
He disappeared from family for thirty plus years,
all this time we searched, prayed, and shed tears.
For his country he did things he couldn’t forget,
then died lost from family, in a sea of regret.
Joe isn’t there but a headstone marks his spot,
to remind of his surviving the Viet Cong onslaught.
His life is a shadowbox that hangs on our wall,
I’m reminded of Joe each time I enter the hall.
So today, I pray that for life choices he did atone,
as for me, Joe will never become as a forgotten stone.
Everything your heart desires,
All that for you life requires,
Can be boiled down to one thing,
That in this gift resides.
Want you not the treasured things,
That others crave - like diamond rings,
And cars and riches and the rest,
But in this gift abides....
A luscious hoard of dazzling hue;
Blinding, lavish and for you...
The symbol of your deepest thirst,
Which this gift satisfies.
No more will your heart palpitate,
Nor will you capitulate;
To trivialities of life,
That this gift overrides.
So go forth quenched and full to brim,
No longer are you the victim.
Of unrequited longing for,
That which this gift provides.
In this your palindromic year,
Despite how rancid you appear.
With finger raised and scowl affront.
We gift this gift besides.
Waiting for life to come to me,
the clock ticked down to one
With barely but a second left,
my tendency to run
With nothing left but one last tick,
all motion seemed to stop
Perspective changed, then rearranged,
a lifetime on the spot
My eyes won’t blink, the fear too great,
of staying closed for good
As from a distant galaxy,
I finally understood
All life had boiled down to this,
eternity defined
When everything that ever was,
together crossed my mind
I left the past and future mired,
to breed and then deceive
And took this present life unbound
—unto my soul reprieved
(The New Room: May, 2022)
This is a pencil
This was his challenge to
a different understanding..
A proper challenge..I might add..
which can be boiled down to
a choice of perception..
We appear to live in a world
of separation..of duality..
and common sense asserts:
yes..this indeed is
a pencil..
A different knowing
is suggesting a
new..yet quite old
perception..
Our inner subjectivity
questions the solid object
said of our pencil over there..
To then discover:
the pencil is made of our
seeing and touching and thinking..
these not separated
from the "I"
that is perceiving..
The Oneness of "I"
asserts now and clears
with joy
centuries of illusory
perception...
What is it you miss from it all
The familiar faces and places you recall
The laughter and fun always
The times that went by in a haze
Or is it just being there
That you want to have no care
For days hold a place in your heart
When it is boiled down looking back is the art.
© Paul Warren Poetry
His life had boiled down to this one moment
Nerves shaking but could never show it
A lifetime of practice to get to this fall day
Always saying goodbye & never getting to stay
The half dirt covered plate at his feet
As thousands waiting to leave their seat
Years of not knowing if he could ever get here
He looks up and his mind never this clear
Cheers all around fade away
Today was his day
He has but a single task
The question yet to be asked
His stance he choose to switch
And from a knee here comes the pitch
She said yes
Look at my Buddy Bear.
Missing an eye, still has his grin,
he has his grandpa’s hair
with bare spots on his head and chin.
Bud heard my ev’ry prayer.
He’s been to ev’ry place I’ve been.
For my gramps Bud was named.
At church, we three sat side by side;
I took him unashamed.
The notes we sang were sour; we tried;
no music skill we claimed.
A bass, Granbuddy sang with pride.
One cool night we all slept
in Cousin Eddie’s big backyard.
The wind grew strong. It swept
our tent and blew the fire off guard.
We all were fine except...
my Buddy's head was somewhat charred.
Granbud took my teddy
saying Gramma could make repairs.
I overheard Eddie
say only children play with bears.
I was almost ready
to sock it to him unawares.
I walked away from there
and never asked for Bud again.
Don’t think I didn’t care.
I guess it boiled down to chagrin
not wanting folks to stare
at big boy with a teddy friend.
I’d watched them put my guy
in a drawer in their chifferobe.
Only once did I spy
to take the quickest peek and probe
for a loose button eye
I’ve carried with me 'round the globe.
HM
Silence.
Louder than any sound.
Louder than the words left unspoken the last time we met.
And I can still remember your famous last words.
“Die, Die, die.”
Echoing forever inside of these walls in my skull.
A never ending headache.
That’s what your voice brings me now.
Our time spent together is all so far away.
Like a forgotten memory.
A memory I’d kill to lose, but pray that I’ll never forget.
So many words shared between the two of us
All boiled down to nothing.
Silence.
Empty feelings and empty minds.
And the only thing holding them together
Are your famous last words.
“Die, Die, Die.”
Sometimes the time we spend apart makes our love grow stronger
and make us realize how much we love and appreicate eachother
And sometimes it shows us how much we shouldnt be together
but what do you do when it shows you both
and its all just a contridicting concoction of mess and emotion
boiled down into one two infinity thoughts to review
I hate you! I love you! I need you. go away!... come back.
dont call me! why didnt you call?
why dont you love me? why do you love me?
Why do you make me hate you so? Why do you make me love you?
Why does it kill me when your not around?
why cant i stand it when you come around?
So what to do when the signs point both ways equally
All good things come to an end
You never see it coming when it first begins.
For example love when it first starts,
And you love a person deeply in you heart,
But things come to change
and you lose all fate.
so eventually comes all the love
that now is hate.
Or how about a friendship that begins very slow
Then there's a spark and it begins to glow.
They'll help you out through good and bad
and stand by your side when you're sad.
But then at times you overload your mouth
and due to that, from fact,
your friendship begins to go south.
Maybe you got a job anf things was going alright,
but then your short hours went to working all night.
It paid a good amount of cash,
but when it boiled down o the end,
you were left felling like trash.
So don't think everything good will always be the same,
Because all good things CAN QUICKLY BE CHANGED !
Myron P. Fusternick
Stepped into sand that was quick,
Unfortunately for him, his head,
Was far too thick...
I watched in awe,
As one leg sunk into the ground,
The other still on dry land,
And from his mouth came a fearful sound....
"Oh help me! Help me! Please Tom Bell!!!"
"I seem to suddenly be...hellbound!!!...Oh, Swell!!!"
Now, the suction power of this terrible muck....
Tore off his shoe and sock....
And even his athelete's foot...
I know it sounds like an aweful shock,
But it all boiled down, to where his feet, he'd put...
Well quick thinking me,
Pulled out my camera,
To document his fate,
And it was not that his end,
was something for which I could not wait,
But I had remembered I was his life
insurance beneficiary,
And I could use the money,
To buy a cup of tea.
Why does this heart feel so bad?
Remembrance of an uninteresting event.
An escape into the night.
Feeling sadness multiplied.
Boiled down and concentrated.
Why does this heart feel so bad?
Tonight forever was broken
and the
Door
Was left
Ajarr.
A flux of destinies
I don't remember
Can't remember
Of the senses you're not making, something I'm forgetting due to there being
nothing to remember, a constant desire to surrender
To this insanity
Being controlled
Proving an inferiority
Wanting to be
Something I'm not
That wasn't me
That was the Liar
That was the thief
that was the jerk
Who wasn't me
The person I never wanted to be or ever was
And am not allowed to ever be
Colorful excuses
Boiled down to black and white
Of lies and lies
Jealousies and their disguises
Haven't forgotten something I wasn't there to remember
Can't guess something