No right minded businessman,
Will cut funding and resources to parts of a their business,
That has proved profitable or is essential to the profitability ,
of another part of their business,
So why do governments with more than one successful businessman,
With proven track records of running a successful business,
Almost always go against conventional wisdom for running a successful
business,
And make cuts across the board without any due diligence regarding,
which government department is making the best return on money,
Provided in the form of tax taken off profitable businesses.
Twinkle twinkle little stars, please tell me wherever you are,
sky blue,
The cows turn their heads, as they stand in their beds,
grass grew,
The mop and the broom had to clean up a room,
mushroom,
Mom goes no-no, Dad goes boo-boo, the baby goes poo-poo
karma,
The bass and the trout went swimming about
school's out.
the mirror split
within the look
of sight
the aptest
share was near
snags come from
prognosticated
I see it strew
like ice melting
yet it was vivid
& heart
was sobbing
from my
caught
metacarpus
where I drove
the staring
fragment i
turned it to
attempt & stop
the red
drippings
1st place contest winner
Written: May 10, 2022
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Yes? You may call it cliché,
This song or cry of love,
Its desperate and dark petals
Falling as the year bleeds out
To frost. The leaves dried or dying,
Thus to be described in crisp
Expected terms as “gold display”
Or “copper-bronze” and you
Would have me wait, you say,
Until another Spring, although
My question’s sown for answering.
My steady eyes observe a jay
lodge against the fissure of night
To glide at morn, its rebellious cruise
as plumy wings reach hills and skies, and orbs:
Somehow, I feel each turn of reels
identify with every jaunt where snowdrops’ plunge
into the tempo of avian trill...
a rhapsody
or wild dissent;
if only to see myself
through its audacious grit.
My hands wave now and laugh, I shall,
For jay’s distinctive mark
Reflects my will…this fowl chasing the rays
On its own term. Much like the jay, my heart
Treads unknown paths… conventional, I'm not.
8/15/2019
For Craig Cornish's Something I Am Not Contest
Can Be Conventional
For some people things can be conventional,
And then prove to become inconsequential;
In circles going,
Without knowing;
Skipped over what should have been essential.
Jim Horn
Sure sounds like Congress to me.
Residual, Conventional and Hysterical
This should be a real change. Is anyone
else out there game besides me? Here
goes again.
The effects could start out conventional;
What they ended being were residual;
What I would find most appalling?
Is for the temptation I was falling;
Hemorrhoids said to not be hysterical.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Has anyone else accepted the
challenge yet?
#1
garlic and honey
tasteful summer sensations –
pungent politics
#2
ears stuffed with cotton
jingoists scorn other's views
God still on spring break
#3
partisan’s season -
scientists, politicians
elites viewed worthless
#4
ignorance is king -
men walking around naked
this summer’s fashion
#5
most parties wounded
anarchists aim for the heart
tea rebels force fall
#6
government suspect
nepotism’s hard winter
leaders elected
Brian Johnston
July 21, 2016
Conventional wisdom means:
Compliments
Smiles
Artificial flowers
Restraint and order
It’s like an English garden
Trimmed and accurate
Where nature is masked
And curves are beaten
It’s like an artificial flavour
Disguising the sweetness
Of the fruit
To constrain, to restrain
To hide, to abstain
Conventional wisdom is
Quiet and nice
Polished and wise
Yet sometimes like volcanic
Magma the feelings burst
Out unconventionally
Proclaiming my spirit my
Pain my laughter my
Essence – unconventional
And wild – like
The howling wind
The ocean storm where
Everything is thrown aside
And gets very messy
And not very quiet and wise like
An English Garden
The counter change ahead
from many air - miles made,
there is no tomorrow
only the light and shade ;
descending from above
the landing lights look strange,
my astral empathy
is ever out of range
and if I really am
invisible as air,
the stamp is ignorant
the passport doesn’t care ;
to satisfy custom
with that which isn’t there
I’m always in the green
with nothing to declare :
I mirror back my face -
cold water to ennui
and wonder why I have
this false identity.
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