The observers quietly express disapproval, stating, “There is no appreciation! What a disappointment! What a squander!” They observe a lamentable representation of a man, specifically an island man. The pastor solemnly affirmed, “Amen.” Furthermore, my daughter sorrowfully remarked, “Oh no, there goes my father; dear Lord, not again.”
I perceived the presence of despair in the haunted expression of the individual. The fractures in the aging brick wall emit a mournful melody. He stands near the altar; another individual lost to folly. This is the same man who, merely six months prior, declared, “I do.”
This occasion resembles either a wedding or a funeral—a bleak evening. The middle-aged groom, a rather foolish figure, shows a decline in love as affection is obscured by deception.
359.
My Fear of Reincarnation
I fear physical death because I may just go…
To the body of a plant or tree
Where I cannot talk, smell, think, feel, hear & see
Like Narcissus who could no longer express his praise for own beauty!
To the body of a beast or animal
Where I cannot reason out and worship the Eternal
Like Kingkong whose belief & faith just gains distrust & disapproval!
-03/15/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Fear of Death Collection
The cat has your bone structure,
it also sashays and allures.
In an alcohol-fueled reverie
it turned up
as thin as a velvet spider.
However, it died
before our love did.
Pets are obtrusive, not conducive
to good or bad memories,
they play the field
demanding to be relevant
long after their passing.
Your cat considers me a villain,
it lingers on as some kind of
a stalking succubus,
the very model of your character
reminding me (as if necessary),
of your everlasting disapproval.
I overhear that damn cat,
positively purring when I am feeling sad,
and on a good day
its sexually vexatious yowling
warns me
never to take
a good cat for granted.
(Immediately after being found "guilty"
of denying that the earth was stationary
and the sun orbited around it, Galileo
said, "Eppur si muove!" [But it moves!])
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
It clicks like disapproval down the stairs,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
At seventeen, I ran until too late—
now cartilage remembers every dare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
The doctor called it mild, then moderate,
prescribed his pills and physical repair,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I miss the thoughtless body, its clean slate,
the kneeling, leaping, dancing unaware.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
Some mornings it predicts the weather’s state,
a creaking oracle that I can’t spare—
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I’ll walk again, they say, but hesitate
means something now, and trust is what wears bare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
Have you ever tried choking? He asked nonchalantly.
“No,” she said. *with a wrinkled nose of disapproval*
“Want to try it?” *His approach couldn't hide his excitement*
“Ok,” she said, absent mindedly running her index finger over his lips.
“you can choke me,” she added slowly,
“if I can stab you repeatedly
with the 7 inch stainless steel
nail-file I keep under my pillow.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
Better By Myself by Hey Violet
Where lies the line,
between humility and pride,
when does ambition become greed.
How short is the distance,
from disapproval to wrath,
between admiration and envy.
How easy is it to turn,
infatuation to lust,
indulgence into gluttony.
Will we know when,
relaxation becomes sloth,
or when a flower becomes just a weed.
I cry for
Painful struggles of humanity.
Desolation of the soul.
Hope hanging on a thread.
Joy snuffed out by hate.
Starving crying children.
Shattered hearts of loneliness.
Feuding families.
The fear of disapproval.
I cry in joy for
The gift of unconditional Love.
awe-inspiring beauty of Nature.
the presence of our loving Father.
acts of anonymous kindness to life.
The joy that a loving life brings.
Faith that ushers in a justified hope.
Love is given to the broken.
Come forth, my beloved, and rest in my Loving arms.
For what you seek is within me, my soul is in you.
Desiree Dissention disliked dishonest disorderly Denise
Discontented Destiny discounted Desiree’s dislike of Denise
Diabolical Denise displayed despotic disapproval of Desi
Desiree and Destiny’s discord disgusted Desi and Denise
Timmy developed bad hay-fever
He saw the doctor for some tabs
No medication seem to work for him
He tried everything the pharmacy had
Another problem soon arose
For all and sundry to see
Each time Timmy sneezed
He would get a woody
His hay-fever now out of control
Sneezing constantly
His woody was up and down
Getting weary as can be
His woody stood to attention
In the most embarrassing places
The town folk were disgusted
Disapproval on their faces
The doctor rang Timmy to say,
Please come and see me
We have an amazing new medication
From your hay-ever you will be freed
A miraculous new antihistamine Timmy was prescribed
The outcome he could not believe
‘Miracles do happen’ Jimmy thought
No more hay-fever, no longer did he sneeze
The other issue was also resolved
Such a relief for dear Timmy
But now his willy was sound asleep
In a coma permanently!!
Little guy I love you ,
It is hard to believe , I know .
That we dance to the Rhythm of this dejavú.
When I saw you again you made my soul glow .
Little guy , I need you ,
I need you more than your mom , more than your sis .
Like a sun needs a shadow to prove that it’s true.
Like the moon needs the stars to reflect lovers bliss .
Little boy they don’t like us together ,
because my mind is rough,
because I set yours as light as a feather .
Because a woman in love is not allowed to be though .
Little boy I don’t care about the opinion of others ,
You are essential to my life .
To hell with all mothers ,
I welcome all cuts if they come from love’s knife .
Owl in a box pops in and out and nods his head
Zebra steed rolls his eyes in disapproval, his cheeks all red.
Why did you wake owl up? Who threw him out of bed?
He usually sleeps all day, his nocturnal auntie said.
the other women are askance
a flapper has moved into the neighborhood
not on her own, but with parents
they cannot control her
she wears short dresses
this is 1921
her skirts are no longer than her knees!
She is flippant, reckless, risqué,
she has bobbed her hair
the other woman gasp their disapproval
she listen to jazz
smokes cigarettes in public
she flaunts brash behavior
I heard she drinks alcohol! some whispered
the rest of the women are shocked
most had no idea that she is also having casual sex
none of them knew about that
they were jealous of her confidence
her misbehaviors stoking their rumor fire
as she stoked their husbands
old gnome built his home on the back of a dragon named Pete.
that is terrific! Elves and faeries told him, that truly is neat!
unless I want to go somewhere he does not want me to go.
he keeps me here with his tail, his glare, and his big toe.
you are kind of a prisoner in your house, Mr. Gnome?
yes, he told them. He keeps me close to his view, right next to my home.
what if you want to have a vacation or go on a trip?
he shows me his teeth, and he makes my pants rip.
how does he do that? asked a young elf named Sir Grim.
his disapproval somehow scares the seam right out of them.
how long will you live in this kind of strife?
I am afraid I am stuck on Pete until the end of my life.
Exist in another reality
place of fantasy and truth
frequently converge
a strong spirit is born.
Unbearable pain,
while aiming for the goal
persistently press on.
Look for heroism.
Keep fighting off disapproval,
trudge aimlessly through the twilight
a firm belief in finding light.
Don't squander your time on wistfulness,
or increased anxiety
remorseless endurance.
Perhaps graced by God's glory.
When you're almost there,
rhythmic beating of the heart starts
magic enchants the air
constantly cruising at a high speed.
I pray for your success.
Written: January 12, 2023
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