junk is a hunk
weighs me down, while I clunk
all over the house
trying to manage the thing
while lost in a dithering funk.
alas, worthless junk
piled up and further up!
where to begin! what a laborious lump!
am I, wasting time
sorting through this
huge, hopeless hump?
I falter, I bump
into a fellow, flighty frump
aimlessly sorting
through her own jangly junk!
together, we commiserate
and conclude that our junk
is just adding up
to a barreling barrage of bunk!
"a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation"
I study the void
conclude it is light it craves
become lost within my calculations
dimensions unspurl
spirals catastrophise
until
spinning
cancels
itself out
and I am still
within my stillness I seek
seeing no ground
having no anchor
it is me that craves
I fear I am the void
should I internalise the vortex
walk the line dizzy
with hand unheld
gamble on transformation
to the entirety of light
see myself
reflected on the outer edges
not through another lens
let the doppelganger
drop away
what if that
Trucker's road stories. Trucker's Manifest log. Two days Trucker's drive Highway to highway. Every mile. Truck stops here and there. Overnight sleep within the trucks. Morning rise, and drive again Hours upon hours in schedules to keep. Watch acceleration in delivery time. Horn blowing to trucker's in greet. Night flashes in changing highway lanes. Code of road in respect. Headlights flash at times for alert of caution. Through all kinds of weather good and bad. Deliveries to pursue. Doing what a Trucker is supposed to do. Up hills and downward mountain steeps. Playing country music to pass the time. The song "Keep on Trucking". Never an endless beat. Trucker's schedule. Trucker's sleuth. Arriving at delivery location. Ontime conclude.
Come Spring Season,
It's time for baseball.
That is, after getting over
The fiery March Madness.
But not so fast.
The NBA is still in session.
And would you believe that
It's June before the Finals finish?
Come late Summer,
Just before Autume,
Ready or not, it's time
For football.
Before long, when
Autumn leaves begin
To fall from trees,
It's time for basketball,
Right on the hills of the
World Series, October Classic.
Thanksgiving and Christmas
Will feast and merry us, and
Before we can conclude with
Our New Year's resolutions,
It's time for the Super Bowl.
Like Mother Nature's seasons
Flowing in and flowing out,
Such is the nature of our
Sporting seasons.
Through the heat of Summer
And the icy freezy Winter,
Seldom do we retreat.
It's simply our way of life.
It's what we do.
Oh, there's more sports,
But ...
Compared in contrast to my mood
Today seems to be rarther lown
But please dont be misconstrude
By the constant use of noun
Feelings it seems a whole multitude
My thoughts beging to overwhelm
Then best avoided any kind of fude
One now looks at me with a frown
I am just in need of a little solitude
As today l am feeling rather down
Perhaps best that l now conclude
So my sorrows l can then drown
Prequal to poem higer ground another introspection 2019
Meet me at the tournament,
Nothing words that goes to my consent.
Yeah, I know that a woman like you should include.
But I already did for you as I conclude.
Every move you make,
are pieces you took that hardly for me to take.
For might not be a careless mistake.
But my defeat made my heartache.
Then we meet again
Place is the same, moves that my game went pain.
Surely as I made your rank rise but I fall for you down.
Then you take my place and place your crown.
Now my Mallory that we been together,
Hope today not sooner we matched, as I defeat.
Though you are my mate, but die in check.
I no longer take it back but to resign and retreat.
— Love, Your Knight,
Nolan Sawyer.
(This poem is inspiration from the book of Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood)
Blessing In the Shadows
Shackled and battened by the restraints of humankind
Hounding ego, gnawing the essence to stay behind
Reverence for soul lessen, protruding unkind
Assigned to desolation, fulfillment confined
Dying hope slipping, clutching the foundation of fate
Only feeling torment, loitering till the final date
Accepting all righteous acts to come as bait
Unknowingly unearthing a hand deterred from hate
Awakening to a notable entity, driven by solicitude
Fearful to the unforeseen, but ready to be renewed
Weaving potential realities, leaving behind the unfavorable until ensued
Released ultimately from the ocean of inhibitions to conclude
In this world a continuing monstrous feud
Men women and children's lives constantly hued
Environmental vandals a desire to denude
Extinction seems likely one must conclude
Unless from within self love we must include
Pray that joy and truth and laughter will forever exude
SEQUENCE OF HORIZONTALS
establish
perspectives
counterpoised
with
paradoxical
viewpoints
immutably
assigned
with
evocative
concentric
longing
from
remote
depths
consoling
unknown
intangible
recede
with
expressive
strategy
into
contrasts
to
conclude
fully
the
charmed
attractions
enact
familiarity
into
oblique
ambivalent
feelings
reconcilable
to temptations
& evolve
the
many
uncomplicated
definitive
epitomes
There’re merits to simplicity!
It’s void of dark duplicity,
It’s lacking eccentricity
In its mundane basicity.
Complexity, troublesome trait,
Catchy, sophisticated bait,
Morphs into agitated state -
Perplexity where nothing’s straight.
My ex and I were simply screwed
By absence of similitude.
Me being a simplistic dude,
Irreconcilable, I conclude!
no more confusion
you've come to a conclusion
to give God the pen
to let Him determine what'll be your end
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
let His righteousness correct
address your issues and redirect
you on the path to now receive
all that He wants you to achieve
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
you'll never envision all God can do
It's more then you'll ever conceive
the Author and Finisher of your faith
only requires that you believe
stop grabbing the pen
as this ain't no autobiography
God is writing your life story
and only He knows
what the ending will be
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
let God correct
let God redirect
let Him determine the narrative
of each chapter
let God conclude what'll be
your happily ever after
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
I appreciate that many love it
And want lashings on their meal
Scattered over soup or curry
(I can’t see the appeal)
It’s popular and I recognise
To you, it may taste fine
Peppery, on your tastebuds
‘Delicious’, ‘divine’
But for me, it’s bitter, nasty stuff
I’m sorry, I must conclude
(Because my own tastebuds insist):
Coriander isn’t food
He trekked life's seemingly endless slog,
and engaged cruel fate in a dialog.
He would measure and evaluate,
and conclude his luck was not so great,
until a raven, crow, or other bird,
said fate had the very last word.
I conclude I was conceived hard-and-fast,
Misfortunes rain on my parade, downcast -
Bad Luck to date
Fickles my Fate,
I now bet on Hope, that they say, dies last!
The bliss is real as I sink into each bite
Arterial consequences I won't consider tonight
Recipe easy: just eggs, cream and sugar
Though perfection with added nutmeg and butter
A touch of vanilla - oh, I'm in lust!
Double the portion size - oh yes I must!
Egg custard is the unglamorous name
Custard me again and again and again
Reaching for more, I don't know how to stop
Eggsactly - my craving is over the top
Mmm murmured as I'm finally sated
A dessert I conclude is very highly rated
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