There, 58 years ago, I turned 18.
There. I enrolled and finished college.
There, I fell in love and got married.
There. I obtained my first fulltime job.
There, I purchased my first bycycle.
There, I purchased my first car.
No. I was not born and raised there;
But it is there that I became a man.
It is there that I most claim to be My City.
It is My Ciity because it is there that
I learned lessons, principles, knowledge,
And wisdom that have sustained me
Until now.
It is there where I saw the Depths of man's
Depravity and learned how to best assist
My fellow mortals from such Depths. It was
There that I was given the most opportunities
To care and share my life with them.
Yes. There is a beautiful city, seated along
Lake Michigan. It was there so many years
ago that Chicago became My City.
EXPRESSIONS OF AFFINITY
existing
authenticated
equality
distinct
echos
enrolled
purified
dignified
phenomena
of
sublimity
gentle
libertarian
picturesque
rhythmic
exemplified
interpreted
alternations
of
couched
crystallisations
If I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
I would bribe it away, gladly give time all time I’d saved.
To hush time’s clock and hurts from all it stole from me,
I’d liquidate my time bonds and time earning stocks.
From the government to bread, false doctrine is fed
that time is for growing dimes to elsewhere bestow.
My soul longs for remote, a dwelling simple, a garden
ample, breathing without time strangling or mangling.
As time's slave, I must behave when it ends deep sleep
to summon me, ‘up, press and stress you working pawn.'
I sold time's possible joys when I enrolled in the goals
of a two-car-mortgage-anxiety-variety-cargo show.
Raised to believe responsibility was the surest path
to fulfilment availability, I neglected my own math.
I didn't try a pencil but hopped traditional boxed squares
and one by one I landed on time squares aloof, never fair.
Time gave my baby’s first “I love you” away at daycare,
a vague recipient, like the vague I paid causing the incident.
Time given that I might prosper fostered so much lack that
if I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
You don't need to be present in a church or subscribe to religion to be connected to more
You don't need to be receiving a pay check or income from an physical organisation or other individual to be working or to have purpose
You don't need to be an enrolled Dancer in a studio, team and culture to be a Dancer
You don't need to have paid mentors, because some mentor has a paid mentor and has told you not to use your intuition and to just be inspired.
You don't need to be in a meditative state or do psychedelics to see more than this plane.
You don't need to follow trends when your God and your intuition is leading you to set one.
You don't need to be seen or validated by others in order to be great.
Greatness lies within...
And that's where the real challenge is.
Is your greatness self serving, inflating and servicing?
Or is it a vessel to help others understand theirs.
Who do you do you for?
Can you be quiet, listen and be directed in your most quiet, darkest and blind state.
Close your eyes and listen.
In those days a decree went out, the world should be enrolled.
And all but few were unprepared for what God would unfold.
For God would take this world of sin and make it reconciled,
The Word would take on human flesh, be born as just a child.
From Galilee to Bethlehem went Joseph with his wife
Who carried safe within her womb the Giver of all life.
No inn was found with any room to shelter Jesus’ birth.
So born within a stable was the King of all the earth.
Out in the fields the shepherds stood and angels did appear.
And they proclaimed good news to all, there was no need to fear.
For in a manger lay the King wrapped up in swaddling clothes.
And from the multitudes a song of glory then arose.
Gloria! The angels sang. So, Gloria! We sing.
For in a lowly stable bare was born the Christ our King.
Glory to the Lord on high, His peace upon the earth.
Gloria! The angels sang to celebrate the birth.
In the beginning was the Word, through Him all came to be.
He came into this world of sin to set our spirits free.
In poverty the Christ was born. In poverty he lived.
He asked for nothing but our love and so our hearts we give.
Clearly in my memory,
a moment of discovery,
in spiritual revery,
and I was not alone.
A kid, when I first heard his sound,
with mountains all around,
it was something new I found,
Country Roads had brought me home.
Two hours each way by bus,
eight hours washing pots, and thus,
life was hard, monotonous,
and the days were long.
I was just eighteen years old.
In school, I should have been enrolled,
but in my head, a voice of gold -
I heard Annie's Song.
Those were many years ago,
and I am moving oh so slow.
I don't have too much to show.
My life is almost done.
Too early, you said your goodbyes,
but you help me see it rise,
for my shoulders and my eyes,
the shining of the sun.
The wretched bow their head
As they shuffle along unled
Lost to the world without souls
No longer counted or enrolled
Once they looked you in the eye
Their knowledge gained held high
But now beaten down instead
Their only world now full of dread
Who now will take up their fight
Going forward with the right
They wait for a leader to rise for them
For it is unknown how it will end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
They are all about my age.
It feels like they are clones of me, but they smile.
I feel my key in my back pocket.
I step out to pretend to use the bathroom.
I almost leave forever.
But there’s a forcefield on campus.
I only have my backpack.
Which has useless books, nothing for survival.
I walk around, hearing a football being tossed and it bothers me.
I’m still on campus no matter how angry I get.
I’m still enrolled according to their computers.
I’m still wearing a shirt with their mascot.
I always end up escorted back to my dorm by the end of the day.
Sometimes, I’ll pick up dinner from the food court.
Sometimes I don’t want to talk to them.
I need to call my parents this week.
We have an agreement.
I lie about friends and classes.
I stay enrolled.
I stay on this campus, filled with people who hate it here just as much as me.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.
Each of the seven prostitutes,
Whose life began as destitute;
From their brothels to a roadside,
For men with or without a ride:
Main wish: to catch the adult male
And stop a day from going stale…
The picture is competition:
To whom would one loss petition?
Yes, a quite charged atmosphere
For one to in chats interfere:
A rival swipe for being too gaunt,
The rather fat with her size haunt
Open boasts about being half chaste;
How good cash paid one not a waste…
They were seven young prostitutes
Who’d failed in enrolled institutes.
In an attempt to document my worth to your esteemed organization, I hereby submit my unredacted resume.
I was educated using blocks, books, chalk, blackboards and the slide rule. “Testing” was used to “evaluate” progress and assist in future choices.
I graduated Magna cum softly from a “free” education facility with a double major in life and its unlimited learning experiences. I am presently enrolled in its post graduate “Masters” program.
I am currently up to date on all of the recent “vaccinations”, upgrades and mask wearing theory.
I do, however, suffer from a long-standing problem with a “work ethic” issue and find it difficult not to show up and produce as I believe it is important to my remaining gainfully employed.
When asked by another employee a question such as: “I wonder what he/she thinks?” I usually reply: “I’m more concerned about why you're so concerned about what he/she thinks.”
I would bring to your “work” place an open mind (not to be confused with an empty head).
If you are interested in offering me employment please contact me by snail mail as my computer mysteriously disappeared last night.
John G.Lawless
©3/20/2023
my mom is not an airhead
cause shes enrolled in premed
and when i am ill
i get a green a pill
thats why i am not lowbred.
Seems I've never done a 'back-to-school' poem
Why should I have? I never left ...
He would change the world when he was young
Fires of righteousness leapt from his tongue
Despairing of success when he turned old
He but changed himself ~ the world enrolled
I engaged her in a passionate Tango
While I checked her bank account
Almost suffered from a seizure
At the vast disclosed amount
So I wined her and i dined her
And I set out to seduce
And to my amazement
I thought she’d fallen for my ruse.
We waltzed and we quickstepped
Around the ballroom floor
Until I suddenly realised
I couldn’t dance anymore
Then, she enrolled me, controlled me
And with such consummate skill
She guided me, and she plied me
Until I complied with her will.
Such an expert choreographer
As I soon learnt to my cost
And by the Last Waltz accepted
I’d indisputably lost
It’s a marriage of great passion
And we regularly grab the chance
To celebrate our union
In the intimacy of the dance.
Now we Tango and we Foxtrot
Through a carefree type of life
I’m the epitome of contentment
Thanks to my rich and loving wife.
They say we’re a handsome couple
As we welcome and explore
The pleasures of our existence
On life’s exciting ballroom floor.
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