Monkey wrenches are distressing.
Always, with my plans, they're messing.
In my life, I've come to realize,
they come in every shape and size;
but I don't mind - it's OK,
what will be my monkey wrench today?
The feeling of impulsive sensitivity,
the beginning,
the search for the meaning
of despondent emotion,
the end.
That was my realization
when I was at the threshold
of the fading twilight zone
and my marooned mind sank in despair,
contained.
When the day’s last wind began to blow,
I saw my shadow lengthen
in the corridor of the past.
I tried to saunter on the fervent footprints
buried desolate under the delusive dust,
while the last mile waited to be walked.
My life’s story written in a tome
of unending miserable episodes
described in distressing chapters
that continued to drag on.
I decided to not turn the pages any more,
wished the last poignant page was missing,
perhaps never written,
or replaced by a new page
unfolding the chronicle of dreams.
Y is for young and her years never show
A is for appreciation of all you have and know
C is for cuddles and those intimate moments we cherish
Q is for quick and there’s no faster wit (all others perish)
U is for upstanding and taking care of yourself
E is for excellence: and your drive of inner self
L is for luck, but she prefers blessings
I is for indispensable, always near those distressing
N is for nurturing: to all that need her presence
[Y]acquelin is in love with a man
[A] romance of May and December
ya[C]quelin is muy hermosa
yac[Q]uelin I will always remember
In an awkward moment I lean in for a h[U]g but refrain
sh[E] started to [L]ean in too, but she too restrained
Do [I] offer a hand shake, she too did hesitate
We say “it’s good to have see[N] you” as I watch her gait
somber
morbid, solemn
depressing, darkening, distressing
funeral, tragedy, party, achievement
reveling, admiring, celebrating
pleasurable, enjoyable
festive
Is it stress or distressing diet
or is it dehydration?
Am I doing enough
to recreate myself each day?
Sometimes I close my eyes
and see what I do not wish to see.
Do I hear what I do not wish to hear?
Feel what I do not wish to feel?
It could have been a lack of sleep last night
or something creeping within my inner mind.
I’m told to visit my doctor, but I find him weird.
Or am I merely glancing into that mirror?
(8 Sep 2025)
(placed on site 15 Jan 2026)
A Moral Tale
It was about a conversation I had
late at night when diabetic pain did its best
to keep me awake and the broken femur
stopped me from moving
Who the hell do you think you are
wallowing in pain, enjoying your distress
Get up, switch on your computer, and see
A distressing picture of those unfortunate
sleeping on the pavement
Don't put up your nose worrying about
the state of their underwear, you have
a woman coming every day to bathe you
and comb your hair
And more, you can, on your Walker, go to
kitchen and make a sarnie with sardines
in tomato sauce
I slapped my operated-on leg, the pain
It was immense, so there take that.
I have the most unlike heroes, like the rich guy
Elon Musk, yes, him, with fifteen children
Alone, he struggles to repopulate the world
all he gets is smirky smiles
With my courage restored, I made coffee
switched on YouTube, about Venezuela
where people were running out of
sardines in tomato sauce and proper coffee
All in gloom the grays and black
Dark colors take up the slack
It is a bad day I say to myself
To justify the acts I put on the shelf
Distressing the stress the aim the goal
Ending the time the day has stole
Shades and curtains play amongst shadows
As I settle down in my warm burrows
Heavy like rocks on my eye's lid
Telling this bad day you've been outbid.
I don’t care about
Taylor’s end of an era
I need a drama
about actualities
of living a broke down life
in this distressing
out of control real world
where the line between
love and hate quickly erodes
until no feelings remain
no tears on this girl’s
guitar nothing that keeps me
wishing on a star
no more tears now you have gone
no wishes will bring you back
Some lines based on Taylor Swift’s song Teardrops on My Guitar.
The olive leaves swaying, the air stagnant with despair’s breath,
thy Lord and thy Savior walks as pall approaches, nearing death’s door,
the spirit, ever generous, sleeps whilst the flesh betrays.
Thy flesh's weak, burden with regret, longs to close its worn eyes,
Yet He bidst me, watch with Me for one moment, final, sacred hour,
a torture of love now begins to wash my spirit clean.
He walks a stone's throw further, and I see Him kneel to pray,
thy Lord faces all the darkness, though the daylight seems far away,
I, too, kneel and pray for strength in the shadow of His grace.
The ancient branches angle and twist in silent prayer,
"Not what I will," the Lord whispers, "Let it be thine own will to yield."
The moon, a velvety witness, sees a soul's distressing.
His Lord kneels alone, a bitter cup held in trembling hands,
as the weight of every human sin is grinding on solid ground,
yet, sweat drips down like drops of blood, and still, "Thy will be done.
See thy Lord and thy Savior in such wretched suffering,
but in His pain, yearning emerges; there is no shifting away,
whilst the apostles sleep, one fails in this last company.
Just a collection of mental health stuff.
The hopeless, random fidgets and calendars.
And when you live in Michigan?
You feel like running to the upper peninsula sometimes!
Taking all that stuff.
Or leaving it all as if it’s a pile.
Mental health is one of those…
Dadada, blah things.
Decrepit and odd.
Takes you back to childhood or nothinghood.
Takes you to Indiana in a dissociative episode that no one talks about.
Takes you back like someone took the wrong luggage.
I still have a random stress ball over there.
And when you live in Michigan?
You can’t lose.
So stress balls sit on my desk.
Like decor but also distressing.
Just a collection of mental health stuff.
I could put it in a box.
But it all got wrecked like a car accident,
Except not exactly.
I’m just a girl who lives in Michigan.
For some reason.
aristocratic antelope alarms and annoys
blue-eyed baboon’s billy goat buster
causing confusion, consternation and crying
distressing and disturbing deliberate donkey
egg-producing egret elevates enthusiasm
forever frolicking in farmer fred’s pastures
giddy goats gallop in garnished with garlands
happy horse henry hypnotizes henrietta’s hens
intense iguana ignores idiocy of inmates
jackals justify jack rabbits jelly-like jeers
kangaroo keenly kicks off kingly kibitz
luxurious llamas lollygag in the lounge
mischievous monkeys march among marshes
nervous newts nibble on nutty Nutella
obnoxious oxen opts out of outrageous opportunities
preening peacock praises his pompous president
quivering quail questions quaking quasar
rustic rooster ruffles robin’s restlessness
sassy songbirds swizzle and sway toward sand beach
talkative turtle trains tarantula to twist and turn
understudy Ulysses utilizes universal unitedness
validating vocabulary of vicious vultures
wandering weasel wants to find his wishes
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xhibitions ‘xperiment on eagle’s nest
yellow yak yawns next to yipping young wolf dog
zealous zebra zips into view of aristocratic antelope
Quiet weep
This inspiring song strongly reinforces our global beliefs, originating from the depths of Africa. The chorus has gained considerable popularity online. While some may argue that it is more radical than spiritual, I respectfully disagree. It resonates deeply with those who hold these beliefs
“No turning back” comes with a lot of meaning, behind this chorus line
I know of a lot of Genz who do believe in religion
But to see how they react to the chorus “I have decided to follow Jesus
Make us believe that we can conquer the devil.
They took up, they crossed and followed thee
Was it the beat in the songs or the lyrics that inspired so many
Of them to get up and dance along?
As poets, we might refer to this as zigging and zagging,
As Genz will probably say, free up your minds
I would say trust the song, not the singer
Distressing without demonstrating.
Camping without thinking,
Moving gracefully without political approvals
Let them see the youth at their best.
And more things as the Caribbean would
They come to play. No turning back
There’s a nadir of personal despair -
In feminine terms it’s - No hair, no flair!
My hairy genes caused me lifelong distress,
I longed for a look I didn’t possess.
I daydreamed of golden locks as a girl,
Blessed with neither a wave nor with a curl.
Straighter than hay mine hang in disarray,
Cradle to coffin - lifelong bad hair day.
And so pertaining my hapless hirsute
I was braided, I ironed in my pursuit.
Slept with hard rollers, a perm I did try,
And lots of hairspray, that’s how I went by.
In vanity’s name I bent backwards in vain
Since straight and straighter my old locks remain.
No quiescent coiffure is meant for me -
Distressing tresses are my destiny.
tuckered and tucked in with him
ebb and flow of pillow head
personalities have dreams
we walk on the sea
we see no sun, with eyes shut
lily pads and no frog legs
and the sky’s a blinding blue
our feet toss and turn
pebbles rise into the clouds
a curious sight, indeed
even in the darkest night
distressing whale song
whistle salts breeze into face
we walk our separate ways
sleepy fits of temperament
hopeful peppermint
a couple buoys apart
harbor of port and starboard
ahoy, matey…don’t walk plank
drop splash to the deck
wakey…wakey…the seas wake
the blasting siren alarm
no one cares less where wave crests
it rests on the bed
that is the crumpled bed sheet
only need to straighten it
a boat left in the harbor
the sea’s now placid
My voice protects human potential,
I won’t walk down your road to failure;
These words aren’t labeled confidential,
they are perfume on me clean and pure.
Walk away if you think I’ll downgrade,
I am not some low model robot;
Not gonna take the straw bed you made,
I won’t suffer your distressing cot.
My voice protects human potential,
I won’t walk down your road to failure;
Thriving’s the result of essential,
it ends the need to simply endure.
The joie de vivre that’s been delayed ,
soaked firewood that has been left to rot;
White hot ideas are doomed to fade
when we buy in to a tragic plot.
My voice protects human potential,
I won’t walk down your road to failure;
Excitement should be exponential,
not hidden fine print on a brochure.
Can’t truly live when you are afraid,
mild mannered is one thing I am not;
Weave hard work and drive into a braid,
that detailed design is a sure shot.
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