Time always passes
Hearts, they always long for pause
And yet, time persists
I am quotes cut short;
Express thoughts different from
Scars of paperbacks.
I am ignored, unspoken—
Leave my wounds open for thoughts.
Now is the winter of our discontent,
For our sins, we shall repent.
Not a soul can escape this torment,
Slowly turning us all senescent.
The cold wind in the east thus blows,
Falling are the petals of that frosty rose.
Our hearts have come to froze,
As we try to cast our minds to our woes.
Harm is the reminiscence of summer,
When we doth celebrate midsommar.
Oh the sun! What has now become of her,
Hiding in shadows, no radiance from her.
The hail hath come to end one and all,
The white rain on the earth doth fall.
How does one remove this hovering pall?
When the limited will cause them to brawl.
Sinking below this sheet of white,
Numbing our body, this frostbite.
Will we ever again see a twilight,
Or will this just be an endless night?
Winter of Discontent
Cloudiness has settled in the sky
An act of unpalatable truth of the kind
A summer sun easily hides
Old dwellings are full of cracks
Sagging roofs and dust on the windowsill
Pot-holed roads, dry as clay, lead from
From doom to the gloom of routines
Nothing changes; life is an endless struggle
Spring is far away
Then, a miracle happens, splitting clouds
I saw the sun, as the flowers in the garden
had seen
warming my face, letting the illusion continue
millions...
of dollars
in bank account;
he's a wealthy man, yet
true happiness
proves
much too expensive
for him;
a walking paradox
impossible
to reconcile.
to the ends of the earth
he goes
painting
r a d i a n t smiles
on faces
on a quotidian basis, yet
doesn't wear
much of his own.
an expert pretender
convincing
all and sundry
that all is fine, yet
suffers
in silence.
when does
the smirking mask fall off?
may the Lord
bring healing sunshine
to this man
laughing
with the world, yet
crying
alone.
HAPPILY DISCONTENT
One may wish to own a JW Turner
The art of art is the skill of knowing
And recognising every good earner
The online market for art is growing
Yet it is more my greed I must quell
One needs a real space for showing
With my few fake Masters left to sell
I found a gallery, as credibility counts
For a half day only, but it served well
A hundred pounds, the anger mounts
And was a scam, that expensive rent
But the cheque of course will bounce
Now my payment has finally been sent
I’m seeing myself as happily discontent
The sinking beauty of the spreading spectrum of sadness I revel
as the cinnabar sunset takes away my departing day.
The joy of twilight time the last rays of drowning dusk unravel
in the pensive painting of the listless life in disarray.
In the darkest of nights the stars shine in the satin sky bright,
silver dust disperses sequined shimmer on the shadow of sorrow.
The rhythmic rustle of dead leaves makes the melody of delight,
tear drops turning to pearls of dew sparkle on barren meadow.
Carved deep in the vale of woe the stream of discontent flows,
where the ecstasy of resurgence cascades with happy memory.
If despair finds a niche of empathy as the wrecking storm blows,
despondency morphs into halcyon heart’s beguiling beauty.
Happily discontent, that I am, that I be
now future
happy discontent
achievable out of reach
joie de vivre bags of regrets
what I am now what I could be
love the journey are we there yet?
live in the present dream of becoming
I'm truly self made I'm reactionary, dependent
let it be, let it be, now endless mindful reflection
I’m restless, but at peace unable to sleep, daydream
I’m thankful for many things when will this nightmare end?
nothing is perfect, fully satisfies quest for perfection ruins the journey
life is an ever evolving process hit or miss, sink or swim, stuns growth
a chest full of good things in life a pile of things underachieved, undone
thankful for what I’ve got so far I want more, but I'm burdened by failures
acceptance without complacency resentful, jealous of what others have
accept that creativity makes mistakes counting failures, clutters & confounds
In this, the death-prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.
Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.
Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.
With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.
Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.
“Now is the winter of our discontent”
Richard III Act 1 scene 1 by Shakespeare
it is now mid-winter
and as I am such a venter
I know this is not what Willy meant
but this weather leaves me so discontent
I'm alright. I mean, I don't like the same things I used to anymore but people change over time right? I'm alright. There's this constant buzzing in my mind that steers my thoughts into oblivion so I distract myself to drown it out. I'm alright. These distractions keep me up all night and when I do eventually fall asleep, I sleep all day. I've never felt more alone then I do now. I'm alright. I'm constantly chasing that next high, in whatever form it takes. My destructive behaviors are only outweighed by my inaction. Sometimes its the cause. I'm alright. I fear that I may never be content. That I'll always be looking for what's next. I think that maybe if I just stay here, in this clearly awful position in life, that it'll justify my unwillingness to move forward cause if I do, then I'll just be unhappy in a better position and drag those around who I brought with me, down. I'm alright. So even when everything is all wrong, I'll just say. I'm alright.
Americans were shocked and stunned
‘Reason’ abandoned, injustice had won
On Sept. 8, 1974, when President Ford exited the stage
The Republican right was left in fistic rage
While the Democrat left was aghast, How could Ford do this
The scales of justice, now so sorely amiss
To pardon a President, guilty in every possible way
of undermining the law and his opponent just didn’t play
It cost Ford the next election, ‘cos Richard Nixon he’d pardoned
Voters’ adverse reaction over two years so hardened
They elected an unknown, a neophyte named Carter
next to whom the Ayatollah Khomeini looked smarter
Yet the country moved on, hindsight thanked Ford
~ That Biden pardon Trump ~ start petitioning the Lord
reaching-out with love
discontent yet happy heart~~~
moves for caring deeds...
midst skepticism
discontentment strives toward~~~
joy's functionality...
though apathy grips
positive discontentment~~~
works for sincere mirth...
discontented glee
does persevere to triumph~~~
yielding thankful life!
Only the weeds of discontent will grow
from harsh words planted in hate
so speak not in anger
Seeds of emotion
yields no crop, now blighted fields,
harvest of a death!
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