Get one's self entry into happiness.
That's deliberate, Straight forward,
User friendliness and Simplistic.
Happiness isn't glimpses for love in
The wrong places nor people and things.
Whilst all the moment in time existed inside
the writer.
Simple living, small pleasures of daily life easy
As ABC.
I've always had the sneaking suspicion I'd never grow old.
I'm decaying prematurely,
slowly rotting in my core with every mind-numbing day.
"Why must every good thing get ruined?"
Home is no longer where happy is.
So why have you staked your claim on my psyche?
Cold blue tile is the foundation from which two children build their world.
I can discern from it nothing but terrifying probabilities.
Everything has an end.
Here we are timeless.
Poems selected (some from this account, some from another, some never posted):
1. Blue Marker Castles
2. Decaying Prematurely
3. Saturday, December 22nd
4. Words I'll Never Say
5. ComeHoming - Matthew 15:4
6. On Cybercoercion
7. Airport Cherubs
8. Winter's Warning
9. Who am I without achievement?
10. Nothing really changes in an airport
Beneath a Tree - Diary Entry Winter Equinox 1670
upon the twelfth hour of Winter's gail, for a moment a glorious splashed painting appear.... as the sullin clouds run...run onward toward the east.. in a misty breath of distant dreams, I remember Basho an old friend of mine. Fugi lying silent....a summit to be reached
A wind blown memory, so long ago
Atop Fugi (The Winter Snow)Cherry Blossoms of Spring (below) Trees of Autumn (wind blown) days passing by oh so quick....each season now a memorable story of the time we spent..
Beneath a tree
For a moment
I hear basho
Philosophy ...
a preparation
for death
Groundwork
of ascension
— footnote of goodbye
(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)
I woke in a pool of befuddlement
was I still alive?
or was this death?
my heart was rapidly revolving
as if I had run the Boston marathon.
I felt discombobulated
since that loud gasp
when my soul reentered my body
hitting my chest full on
re-entry is difficult for us astral travelers.
In a nearby village, a man unfurled his manifesto of machinations.
Shotgun blasts echoed the summit until he turned,
cheeks flashing in the biting cold.
A bouquet of flower petals,
explosive roses frozen in time,
sculpture at the snap of one’s fingers.
Psalm 23: Modern Version Contest
1] The Lord is my Teacher; I yearn to know.
2] He taketh me to read in libraries serene: He leadeth me to instruction and knowledge.
3] He restores my faith: He takes me from blind valleys to mountains of sight, to find wisdom.
4] As I walk through the darkness of lies, on every side, I Am unafraid: for your light shines before me; Thy sword of truth protects me.
5]He feeds my hunger for knowledge and my thirst for truth in the presence of ignorance: He guards my mind from pestilence: epiphanies overflow.
6] Surely wisdom and understanding will clothe me with inner beauty: and I will strive to learn from my Teacher forever.
We bought our Global Entry cards
In pre-pandemic days,
Believing they would ease our travel
In some helpful ways.
But Covid hit soon after
So those cards were never used,
Yet when our trips resumed
Our pre-check status was refused.
The US airlines never gave
An explanation why,
But we kept trying every time
We purchased seats to fly.
Today, though, on Air Canada,
An agent made a catch -
My boarding pass and entry card
Were not a perfect match.
It seems there are 9 digit codes
(2 sets!) on every card
And entering the wrong one
On a form was not that hard.
The problem solved, we got new passes
And were on our way,
With pre-check status never given
By the USA.
lovely long hair flips
sexy walk with switching hips
bright red painted lips
emerald round eyes
accepting drinks at the bar
like a star call girl
There is something
in the day that has disconnected.
Syntax has gone awry
with distance stretching further
than thought
and sentences stranded
in a silence left by words
that have fled the tongue.
And then there is that shadow
falling across passing time,
its shape giving no hint
as to what it is, growing
when eyes look away,
then appearing in a glance
like a shadow
caught on an X-ray.
Satirical Journal Entry #1
Attempting Suicide:
Just The Beginning!
If I killed myself today would anyone notice? Would anyone be at my
funeral?
If so, would they come just ot give themselves peace(piece) of mind over
all the things they took from me?
I guess better late than never!
Hmmm..........
A corpse could always use a loan or a shoulder to cry on.
I wonder how I would be dressed?
Ah....... maybe somehow right before I die I could mangle my face so my casket would stay closed.
-Less opportunity for more disappointment that way.
If I killed myself today all chaos in my mind would end.
I would be in hell for sure
but I know that all this torture on earth would be forgotten.
Yet one question still remains.
Is it worth the damnation?
Yes! I am a selfish !
todays tv cable has...
entry-price programming...to...
enter-prize programs that
set-to-light corporate
satellite enterprises...to...
enterprise a pi-card prophets profits...
stan sand
It is this moment, sunset, the hour when silence is most golden, that I pen this poem.
Above and all around me the trees are whispering, confiding in the autumn air a secret long lost to humanity. It is something otherworldly, unattainable by mortal means, something still sought after by those very few who dare to bear the weight of transcendence on their already starving hearts.
They, who know that sacred truth is there, may feel its rapture without ever being able to comprehend its intricacies, are the chosen, the dreamers, the beautiful, and the damned.
Still I am returning faithfully to that threshold, to hope to glimpse through that door the final truth, the one that will unlock the secrets guarded from us by nature,as if we human beings would always be too ignorant to understand, or even care.
Pure poetry.
And that’s all there is to this breathing silence, this precise moment hung suspended out of time, the closest to enlightenment the soul may reach from its human shell, until the enigma of eternity comes to pull us out from ourselves and place us, inevitably, among the stars.
**Tonight I am beginning Entry thirty-five,
Another day is conquered, & I'm thankful I'm alive.
Also it is now year twenty-twenty-three (2023),
I'm curious as to what this new year has for me.
**As I'm hoping & I'm praying for my pain to be quite low,
But because it changes daily, its severity I just don't know.
So I will just continue to battle & fight like hell,
Perhaps this year we'll find a cure, yet only time will tell.
**Also one thing about me is I don't give up easy at all,
Even through the unbearable times, when I stumble or fall.
Plus I'm still refusing, to show this curse defeat,
When my health & life are concerned, I will not be beat.
**But through this new year twenty-twenty-three,
I vow to remain as happy as I can possibly be.
So if this brand new year of ours, happens to find a cure,
It will be worth every prayer, that I have prayed for sure!
©Jan. 2023 Melissa Darsey (Passionate_Poetess)
On the gilded edge of evening, birds sing a song nearly long forgotten, and I am brought back to the very There and Then that only I have intimately known.
There where my heart is happiest, is at home. Then when yester-me watched sunsets and sunrises dazzle glitterly over the town, and believed I owned it all. There where I can be the most me. Then when I was endearingly naive.
I can still feel the sun streaming through those pines, still smell the jasmines and honeysuckles under those oaks, still see the town sprawling at my feet from when I stood atop the reservoir to take it all in.
And I absorbed every last drop of it, became my own memoir reservoir, loving and living a yesterday that etched and penned and painted and poemed the person I am today.
April 11, 2023
*written at the age of 42
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