Should you travel to Saint Sarong,
take it from me, don't linger long,
and fall for a girl with eyes that flash
beneath each long and lovely lash.
She'll kill you for a song.
...and, yet we all have to die,
I say, philosophically, and sigh -
and I'll tell you, just so you know,
there's no better way to go.
In Considerations
—————————
Selfish life is so now too, completing me but mostly you. All the hell you put me through, clever lists of “wish I knew”. Would want to stay yet quickly go, all this sadness feeling low.
Try to blink but then what’s gone, this part of me you’ve made the pawn. In most you take that cannot free, my eyes hate you, your mind sees me…
Court failure
promotion of injustice
embarrassment of the truth
I care I search, and always I come to find
All is fair in love and war, but love is blind
Who dares to besmirch another is unkind
It is an insult when a person is maligned
I care I search but it remains undefined
how some lurch from shadows to spellbind
Who sits on a perch and is often inclined
to mock others? A caged parrot who's confined
I care I search but I will never be aligned
with racists whose hearts should be colorblind
Some attend church, hoping to be enshrined
but there they will find no peace of mind
I care I search but nothing can make me resigned
to spare the birch branch. I would spank a behind
CONSIDERATIONS
unconscious
reverence
profoundly
different
sit
tendency
hope
is the spring
exquisite
& mysterious
the forgotten
fact
supposed
enough
by these
existential moments
became more
abstracted
prefiguring
diversion
or expectations
purely derivative
of condescension
deepened
with every
passing
illustration
precipitated
in
bright colours
& pattern
of
inventive genius
in
plain sight
ignored by
generations
of
reminiscence
romanticised
authentic
proof of
supposition
that reveals
more about
the fantastically
once
suppressed
a proliferations
suppressed
of
fiction
active assertive
&
&overdone
When there is no plan B
When all weighs heavily upon me
When all friends seem lost
When I have considered all the cost
When bills pile high
When all I want to do is cry
Then I will challenge problems anew
Then I will search for solutions through and through
Then I will give thanks to my Creator
Then I will silence my inner debater
Then I will offer up a song of praise
Then I will look for better days
When they carry me out of here, they’ll first have to take me from my bedroom to my sitting room, squeezing through the narrow hallway connecting the two, in order to then re-open the in-ward swinging door through which they entered my apartment. They’ll then have access to the stairway descending to the ground floor exit and be able to angle me down and bear me to the outside world, never to return again. But in the brief time they’ll have stood in my sitting room, they will likely have judged it to be a place “of cleanliness and good order,” with everything in its place, reminiscent of a furniture store show room. I hope they’ll also have taken notice of the photo of my smiling children on the end table by my chair. Given the sterility of all the rest, it is the only tangible evidence that a life ever actually occupied that room other than to keep it tidy. Whoever packs up that photo when they clear out my things had better treat it with reverence and respect; I know they loved me.
sometimes the more we eat the hungrier we are
hearing voices floating from afar
the missed songs of ancient ancestors
the youth we have given to the earth
the many skins that need to be unwrapped
to be mapped and written upon by many hands that might decipher
a purpose yet unknown. It is a shower of flowers that flow
through every fine eye glowing
legs thrust into the air with all the dismissed care
of first steps misplaced
angular, groping, griping fingers arms splayed and displayed
like a first time out of water octopus, out of synch and out of rhyme
riveted upon its course.
Driven by what lies beneath many layers of skin and bone
hair and feelings coming from
what is the only truth
I may have eggs for breakfast
I may not turn away from toast
the most difficult decisions one could make are minor
in the scheme of things, the dream of things
What we call life, a squeak of sound
we will all say was heard
we will all awake into our lives
and go away again and come back again
and we may have those eggs again
for breakfast
A flint-stone when struck,
sparks in varied forms of light,
lit from the same source.
It’s the mirror
Reflection of confusion
Moi ?
Collection of misguided attentions
Or
The stoic compilation of self
Who
Familiar unfamiliar face
Hallowed eyes
Meets the stare of satisfaction
Youth ?
Held captive by
The gray aches of age
Resignation to
The crossroads of bygone goals
Smile
For the union of love
Frown
Of lost exuberance
Desire
To just give more
gkl2010
We all have bad days, in so many different ways.
Could it hurt to be polite, when in public sight?
Choosing, field of service, you shouldn’t be nervous.
When in the public eye, you should not sigh.
Say yes sir and yes ma'am, not words like ****.
Cursing shows no dignity, showing others indignity.
Those who lack the skills should head for the hills.
Those with no better tool should have listened in school.
If learning you lacked, you should have been whacked.
Civility is showing kindness, not your soul’s blindness.
If politeness you cannot give, then your heart is a sieve.
So learn some self-respect, courtesy will be the affect.
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