God isn't neat
He hasn't got it all sewn up
Tidy
Complete
He doesn't have a perfect plan
Preprepared
A place for everything
Colour coordinated
Sussed out, exclusively available
To the spiritual elite.
He doesn't have a bag of surprises
Distributed on a whim
Leukaemia for you
Long life for her
Alzheimer's or dementia or a road traffic accident for him.
He doesn't mete out chance events
Based on our choices
The sound of our voices
The town of our birth
Our place on the earth
The state of our hearts
Our love of the Arts
Our reliance on science
Our sin.
He never has promised that life will be fair
Or tragedies rare
Simply he tells us
Because of his son
All that he is
All he has done
In the light and the dark
In joy and in pain
Perceived or
Ignored
Trusted or
Doubted
He will be there
Soothing the soul
Tingling of the senses
Aroma of intrigued
Tasteful Alpha
Arrangement through the thought
Read out inspiration
Sentences leverage
Ability intertwined
Right ingredients of savory
Healing reinforced
Every stir coordinated
Needing more Word Nourishment
Another serving of Poetry soup
Spoonful thought
Words to live by
Napkin ready
Efforts in every try.
The patience!
The nothing feeling!
The exasperation!
Like a rolled up sleeve that’s wet over nothing.
Anyway…
Like the small tug of air,
Depression with a side of salad, and worse.
Plans that seem coordinated.
But no, they have charisma, they have hopefulness.
Wander off like they do.
They are patient with me.
I don’t live far from the moon at all.
Just don’t have a plan…
To breathe in the dark matter
Plans waste away in squalor.
Alive.
I was once like a side salad.
Got eaten a little bit.
Then really died that day.
Zombie neo Nazi propaganda legislation lobby robbers
Male female test tube coordinated
Suv strike force highway rodeo champs
Take Italy girl long time
To get Kevin to look at it
Im Irish army military Science
I can't see weakness cowardice hiding spot thing thought
I asked my wife, what is the purpose of the married life,
She answered philosophically, "The goal is to turn Mr. Wrong into Mr. Right".
I asked my wife, why you need so many dresses,
You only wear them once and hang them in antiquity,
It is not the dress, but what goes in the dress, defines the beauty,
Her answer, "As a man, you would not understand".
I wondered why it takes you so long to get dressed for a party,
If you had only a few dresses, you would not be so confused,
Why get color coordinated, men can spot the beauty even in rags,
She replied, "As a man, you would not understand".
When I ask my wife a question, I often wonder,
Should I ask in a positive or a negative sense,
I am afraid the answer will be opposite of what I say,
As a man, I agree, I do not undestand.
In a bottle's transparent depths,
ants struggled, waves of chaos
each fighting for life,
yet forming a living pyramid,
a reverberation of unity's might.
Some submerged, others held fast,
a coordinated dance of aid
no panic, no selfish haste,
each ant surrendered to the greater fate.
A spoon's gentle rescue came,
ants emerged, one by one,
until one faltered, slipped back
into the water's grasp.
The last ant turned, dove deep,
clinging tight to the drowning form,
a bond of brotherhood,
a sacrifice that shook my core.
Shame on humans, lost in pride,
building walls, not bridges wide,
ants teach us unity's strength,
a lesson in selfless length.
True power lies in collective might,
let ants' wisdom guide our plight,
unity's lesson, forever told
in their small, mighty hearts of gold.
Written By: D. Collins 7/7/25
I know the names of some of the greatest to ever dawn black skin.
Dr. Charles Drew, Miles Davis, Malcolm X, and James Baldwin.
Generations from now their achievements will be overlooked.
Due to coordinated efforts to remove them from history books.
There were the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen.
Maya Angelou and descriptive writings of Toni Morrison.
We had Dr. Martin Luther King and Muhammad Ali.
Who gave hope to a population of people like me.
We've endured the longest deprivation mankind has faced.
You cannot remove something that refuses to be erased.
We've heard broken promises that never came about.
The Caged Bird Still Sings loudly from the top of the mount.
Diane’s dog Charlie is her baby; more than her son ever was.
He likes me better than Stewart did too, she tells me.
Charlie’s therapy appointments are on Monday.
On Tuesdays he has his nails groomed or his teeth flossed.
Wednesdays are open for luncheon engagements with other pups.
He gives me a break on Thursdays, Diane tells us. It’s my free day.
Friday’s are for Charlie’s aerobic and line dancing.
Saturdays he has yoga.
What’s Charlie’s Sunday schedule? I ask her.
Diane looks surprised that I asked.
We go to church in color-coordinated clothing.
I take him in a little matching case.
I should have guessed.
by midday the capital is lost in deferring of appointment, illegal assembly and illegal protest of speech, past speech of the governance and the executive, insurmountable halls of congress have no cause for speech in between coordinated attack points.
the cowardice grows in the hands of the general's might.
deprived of voice the eldest child is thrilled and in traitors steakhouse
How I remember our days of vibrant youth.
We coordinated as a team,
as together, we unfolded our dream
of beauty, love, and truth.
Now, when a comrade's, gone, these visions, it recalls,
and we reminisce, softening the blow -
but who will remember me, I would like to know -
when the last petal falls.
In the dance of bees and flight of birds,
In flocks dancing high aloft in the sky,
lies the collective wisdom of a crowd of things,
that have, so-called swarm consciousness it seems.
But, there's no conductor or leader to guide the intricate ballet,
No single mind orchestrates the dance,
No single purpose drives the collective fray,
As the swarm twists and swirls, hither and thither they go
In a wondrous dynamic coordinated display,
That creates a harmonic crescendo performance, only swarms know.
When one outside member of the flock randomly
feels the urge to divert its path
all its nearby neighbors follow suit
Each member is aligned to the those immediately close by,
left and right, front and back,
all around them, lying close in formation.
So one twist, turns another, and another, and another.
One twirl, curls and swirls the mob in unison,
as all others follow suit.
So it's one for all, it's all for one, it's all in, in the show.
The swarm's intelligence is simply
driven by the birds, bees, fish, bugs and gnats
urge is stay, with togetherness in a crowd
to swarm and whoop it up,
in joyous flight,
Joie de vivre!
Under the angle of time
There is a coordinated effort of transparency.
In the utter lack of outer space
We’re all running back to the woods.
A sacrament unadorned, raining onto our heads,
Into our eyelids, into the taste buds.
I don’t plan to imagine anything.
This is a construct of destiny.
A destiny that works backwards,
Changing the past from the future.
Like a doctor with a time-traveling suture.
However,
Every star fades.
Take my hand, and let’s embrace as one together
Touch of affection
Hearts to hearts golden
Attraction beats
Love into everlasting
Lips of endure
Fireworks reaction
Rainbow coordinated personalities
Hearts of new heights
Cherish marvelous
Eye contact
Love today
Our tomorrow
On target
Harmony bliss
700 Jews dead on the latest Holy Day
50 years to the day since the Yom Kippur Fray
Hamas celebrations to be short-lived
as Israel now lowers the boom
Hamas' fighters and Palestinian pawns
left holding the broom --
by 'brave' Iran, which oils Hamas' terror machine
then slinks away, the Mullahs' skirts kept spotless clean
Not to mention Russia and Vladimir Putin
who coordinated and sanctioned all this
welcoming Iran & Hamas to the Kremlin
for a deal-sealing handshake and kiss*
Yes, the finger points directly at Mr. Putin, and rightly so
~ as all but US 'intelligence' and President Joe already know
_________________________________________________
*Exhibit 'A:' Not one American news source reported Hamas'
recent meeting with Mr. Putin in the Kremlin. Not one...
perhaps because Russia has been controlling the Middle East
ever since Mr. Obama 'reset' America's foreign policy in 2009,
unraveling the strong US influence in the M-E, maintained for
49 years, from Nixon's Presidency through that of Bush Jr.
Cooling off in falling months, approaching dusk.
Coordinated chill and quilting of snow, brusque.
Cooking lots of soup, beating down dough,
as the wind whoops on a weeping willow.
The sky blue sheets aired out on the clothesline.
Coordinates of beauty in her decline.
Cooties shots on the medical menu…sigh.
Cooperation of dirge, the woe-filled cry.
Co-occurence of life and absence of fog
on the handheld mirror, down by the bog.
Cookout of fried boughs and its vestment.
This particular parish was not a good investment.
Autumn’s turning down the soil - leaves
storm in turmoil, slowing down what it believes.
The coos of despair…her ring rolls off finger.
Her dreams of love no longer linger.
Cool when Autumn clashes with Winter
and the clash of letters are placed by printer.
The clouds are snow white, they get the scoop.
Doves cry and hover - eyes droop.
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