I'm thinking there's many
a drinking toast
'Cheers!' 'Cin cin!' '¡Salud!'
'Sláinte!' 'Prost!'
'Here's looking at you!'
or 'Mud in your eye!'
'To health wealth and happiness!'
in Japan it's 'Kanpai'
Hebrew 'L'chaim!' Chinese 'Ganbei!'
Russia 'Na Zdorovie!' Scandinavia 'Skål!'
and 'E ola!' in Hawaii
but was it a member
of the gay persuasion
who first let slip
before a sip slurp or sup
twixt cup and lip
the suggestion 'Bottoms up!'
Tossed deep in the ocean was your broken heart
Picking up the pieces, refining each part
Of yourself. Thrown, wacked, hurled and caught by the waves
Floating, passing by, not needing to be saved
Your mended heart polished through an ocean grave
Coming from man, perfected only by nature
You are my blessing, with nothing else greater
You thought meeting another was unlikely
And then we met as you surfaced politely
Resemblance of a rare gem shining brightly
Frosty appearance from love's weather before
Your edges smoothened, beautiful to the core
Your exciting presence was clearly defined
Your character beamed with love for me so kind
You are my oceanic gem, hard to find
You're the end product, our love is forever
Imperfectly perfect due to love's weather
Your unique presence in my life became rife.
Thanks my husband for complementing my life
You are my sea glass. I am your gleeful wife
(I was too late for the poetry contest but enjoyed writing this poem)
We're trapped here.
The need to escape this Eden-turned-hellhole
is far ahead of the technology to do so.
We paid little attention when village idiots corralled our children.
For they were clever and did it in tiny increments.
Maybe we were suffering from the disease of indifference.
The end product was the premature battering of innocents.
Now the radical nest of little vampires and anarchists has hatched.
Flitting into the streets to bleed out the good people.
It's nearly a total eclipse of sanity.
Agonizing pain
Discomfort, turmoil inside
Life can be excruciating
This is where the weak typically run and hide
But it is in those extreme moments
In the heat of the fire
That’s where steel is forged
Its where the name legend is acquired
It's in the suffering
The resistance, the pressure, and pain
Characters built
It separates, only the strong remain
So bring me the heavy load
I’ll walk straight into the fire
The lessons I’ll learn
Builds the endurance that change requires
It builds equity, gravitas
With strength comes gains
The end product
Just leaves me wanting more of the same
That which doesn't kill us
Nietshce said, makes us stronger inside
For when we suffer
We truly begin to live a full life
Articulated words
From your lips...
Soothes more than
Smooth creamed cookie.
Melanin skin tone,
You are...
Makes this cookie green.
Your sapience, very distinct
Making a library curse
Your existence.
Resistence, I sucked
From your crispy nipples
Forming ripples
Down my infant tummy.
Oreo, might be yummy,
Crunchie and sweet;
That mama, can't
Contend with
Your rarebreed
Baked ennead months from your oven.
I became your best torte;
Sweeter than the sweetest,
Your end product.
Kind hearted you are,
Your heart larger
Than Philadelphia city...
Accomodates all with pity.
Like a tulip in the tropical forest
Your warmth beckon one to rest.
Your life, very admirable
Than the sight of a phillerya.
Before you depart,
Record an audio
To soak in while I crunch my Oreo.
©? Rarebreed «2020
Death is the end-product of life.
It hangs over the head like a knife
Whoever has stepped into this world
Tastes death after a threshold
Everything is programmed prior to birth
Before our arrival on earth
In whatever corner of the globe
Death snatches life ending all our hopes
Whether you are king or pauper
All have to die sooner or later
Death is an equalizer.
Death brings us on the same floor level
A situation no soul can repel
Has anybody been able to escape death?
Who can stop the angel to suppress our breath?
Death comes in several forms
We must respect its norms
It does not consider status or age
Eventually we are trapped in its cage
Some die in natural ways
While others must undergo many essays
Death is a reliever
For those who suffer
Without any second before or after
It comes according to its roster
Life is a betrayer
Whereas death will be with us forever
Will you welcome death with a smile?
So, let's live to the fullest
By showing virtues which are best
Oh unity,an opinion pescribed by love
The bond of cordial relationship
The boat saddled on the ocean of love
That moves on intensely like a ship
It grows on focusly like an hibiscus flower
It fruits are nourishing like sindey
It is reliable to be set on as a pillar
Let government build on it and follow it lead
As a mountain it protects
As a mirror it reflects
Rely on it and its precepts
Because it end-product is success in it strenght.
Horn Heuristic Composite Haiku
This consists of seven haiku combined
for a total of 21 lines. Both seven and
21 appear to be lucky for some reason
or another.
Heard it has been told
Your guess is as good as mine
Or someone else's.
That is my introductory haiku.
Was hard to measure
Also value of treasure
From perfect pleasure.
Appeared out of site
Infinite beyond belief
Somewhat ill-conceived.
Beaten to a pulp
Result of belligerence
Now not recognized.
Totally fruitless
Also inescapable
And no longer missed.
Hope it will be found
Along with what it pertained to
Gave up searching for.
Reason is unknown
Not sure what end product was
You to confiscate.
Voters did adjourn
Whole case was given up on
A total, lost cause.
(May sound familiar
A Presidential campaign
Complete oblivion.)
James Thesaurus Heuristic Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Jill and I still have terrible coughs
and headaches. Think we will skip
St. James Episcopal Church in
Shallotte, NC.
The Universe is a machine.
It's a machine that creates.
It has the raw materials in the elements.
It has energy sources in the stars and it has the software in mathematics.
It takes these things and creates life.
Through life it then creates sophisticated beautiful things.
We can see these things all around us.
Evolution is a process of refining within the machine. Updating, expanding and altering the product until the desired results are achieved. Intelligent biology ultimately will create intelligent machines ever improving the design. That's when birth occurs. The rise of the machine's machines. The end product.
Can You Can a Comment
There are only certain things that are allowed
To happen all by yourself or in a big crowd
Like poems I have been writing as of late
On them having the power to concentrate.
What will end product of poem be for me
How it is interpreted am starting to see
Into past my promising poem will fade
Few or no comments were ever made.
Where in poem do you need an ingredient
To improve them and make more expedient
In last two hours have written four more
An unsurmountable addition is still in store.
People read poems and keep coming back
Yet still comments they will always lack
So would you say I was slightly suspicious
By saying your behavior is concupiscious.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concupiscence
Wow. Guess I have invented a new word
By adding copious to concupiscence. The
result is concupiscious. Added footnote.
It really was just like you read it in the poems, a bolt; a shock. One moment I was in a shop, minding my own bees-wax. Next thing I know, some dizzy girl is asking me to break a twenty. Good thing I had the change. Good thing I was ready for a change.
She said thanks, went on her way. I dropped my nose back into my book, lamenting the blown opportunity. She returned and taking the seat across from me she whispered, “You knew I’d be back, right?” She became the gypsy then, a tarot teller, turning my palm upward. Her hand was warm and her smile was sincere.
The next four hours became a blur of sublime madness. When you stare at a situation, trapping it, knowing if you look away it will disappear forever? It was that. No one knew. No one cared. We slipped through the streets, swimming in others’ indifference.
She reads my mind to this day. She will enter the room, tickle my palm and smile.
This was a spontaneous poem, typed in December 2014, inspired by a New York Times illustration. I typed the poem right onto the illustration. You can see the end product here --> http://wrongwaywriteway.com/2014/12/30/and-wham/
~TH~
Love heals.
Lust kills.
Love is affection.
Lust is infection.
Love starts a goal.
Lust ends it all.
Love results fusion.
Lust leads to separation.
True love lasts.
Fake love- lust.
Love’s end product is us.
Lust’s end product is dust.
Love is god.
Lust is bad.
Love to lust:
Love that must not last.
lying hidden in the lies of answers,
buried deep in all secret of secrecies.
faded in the faint future;
so out of touch and unsure,
kept in the dark for selfish reason,
never to changed for a moral lesson.
tired of the lying game;
so wild and untame,
threatened with every hard real reality,
attempts of closure with no simplicity.
fronting with the fake attitude,
maligned with your own agenda.
trapped with no truth,
creating your own lost saga.
brooding with your own nature of creed,
discovering your own egostistical way of living.
wrapped around in unforeseen darkness;
blemish and rendered,
wanted helpless.
ending up with no real genuine right of conduct,
an act of insecurity with no real end product.
It’s on the brink
The result is on the brink
The outcome will be announced
The result will be pronounced
For everything done
There's always fun
So don't panic for whatever will be the effect!
Don’t be disappointed by the end product!
Of whatever test you already given
Experienced gained and so far you are driven
Once again my tears have fallen.
But not for someone else.
They fall silently and inward
Only for myself.
It’s ok this time
That my tears are for me.
I trust myself,
Just this once.
Tears of retribution
Of anger and utter joy.
My life in peaceful turmoil.
Love and pain in chaotic harmony.
Just for a change
I can be strong enough to change.
Change my heart
And all my life.
Peaceful and complete
In hope and dismay.
My feet firmly planted
In the Rock in which I anchor.
Just like a caterpillar,
I am curled up
Unready to break through
Into the world.
One day when my heart’s complete.
My wings will unfold
And I a beautiful butterfly
Will grace the world.
A short time I will live.
Until the old becomes cocooned.
A new life at rebirth,
A new coat of colours to show.
With my new life I will strive
To change my heart and my soul.
Beauty shall be my end product
In power will my beauty be displayed.
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