Our Opossum Has a Strong Propensity for Crime
By Frank Daub
Discovered in a backyard nighttime check –
an opossum wandering behind our garden shed.
Pin-pointed face, squinting eyes.
It did not run -- to my surprise.
Only staring, lighted softly by the porchlight.
Little.
Sleek in a white-gray-tan-straight-fur-slicked-down way.
The streets around are not friendly to its kind.
This unfair truth made up my mind.
I should let the shed-bottom harbor it.
This would require: FEEDING.
I decided the feeding plan -- without data-based reference --
would be workable.
I tried every sort of natural vegetable.
Walnuts added when the berries nurtured
hordes of ants --
Not
the opossum.
The dietary effort proved it.
Our opossum has a strong propensity for crime.
Particular it is to nighttime
sneaking forays - for food of course.
(This assured the legality of it for me.)
Our opossum was not particular to dietary do’s and don’ts;
Being just inclined to FEEDING its necessary wants.
The animal had a penchant – not a preference --
an exceeding zest for anything edible.
Incredible.
We are winners
even when losers --
God’s patterns,
Whole, holy and perfect --
Patterns even random
never exceeding Divine Borders --
Red that impedes people from moving
Extra step forward enticing
Dot in red, ceases everything
Yellow that warns and drums
Extra press on the pedal, burns and hums
Leeway to move forward like a wand
Left or right with your foot or hand
Or keep moving as told
Whine when you go beyond the line in bold
Go and keep going
Rev and ride on a Boeing
Exercise discipline and be alive
Exceeding (with caution) the gauge in the hive
Never surrender 'til you get there!
Kindred spirits to cross
A soft smile that spreads
Testing my patience
Exceeding my expectations
("Little Things Mean A Lot"
Kitty Kallen 1954)
If you think God tallies
in His columns of +'s and -'s
how many times man gets
to the moon or mars
you are really mistaken -- Little
things mean a lot. Like, personally
cutting the nextdoor old lady's grass
instead of just hiring someone
is more profound than 10 successful
rocket launches -- little things mean
a lot. The rescued kitten, the stray
dog fed -- the breaking of bread with
family and friends, this is how one's spirit
is healthily fed (little things mean a lot).
God pours all his wisdom as potential
into the hearts and minds of newborns
that they may do amazing things with
their lives. Little things mean a lot. Maybe
everything, far exceeding all our
imagined big things. Better to stay
grounded than to reach into the infinite
(wasting precious time) only to find what
was already within your near grasp from
the very onset. In our speed world
Big Things will always get their fair share
of attention...while far more slower dearer
little things can be lost forever. Little things
mean a lot.
diffuse
adaptations
discovered
pleasures
vital
full
precise
yet
simple
&symbolic
vague
allegory
tantamount
to
the opaque
instead
of
exact
equivalents
excel
in
objective
intrigue
aesthetic
visual
&verbals
verify
expectations
exceeding
superficial
mosaics
of
perception
both
instantaneous
&
simultaneously
fused
in
eternal
creativity
Not an easy task
Doesn’t come with instructions nor guidelines
Take life as it is given
Survival through life terms
Learn as you live
Agenda assimilation
Rise up appreciation
Hard knocks journey
Discipline matters
Facing challengers
Crisis moments
Survive or die
Be determined
Relish hope
Believing within
Knowing you can and shall
Individual process
Proceeding in exceeding
Life cycle
Plain and simple, survive
Some time ago
One or the few of human beings
Had figured to create a crepe
Before
They were hunting birds
And covering their bodies with no feathers
In clay
…
Produce the GUILLOTINE
….
And throwing those birds in fire
They figured clay is hardened by the this
And this resulted in cookware introduction
With what
The boiled foods appeared in Mankind
Due very basic eating the desire
This finding
This the finding
This the very finding
You were supposed to found
Being by then by nothing stupid really bound
The Garlic can be prophylactic or the medicinal
Stupidity against the modern world there is no vaccina
Some time ago
The humans were drawing scenes of hunt on caves the stones
Today they want that everything is digitized
Researchers, wankers, users of the phone
We reckon shall be greatly minimized
And then in land or the prior the agriculture
We won't be buying the imported the the fruit
For price exceeding any sane the bound
These centimeters are these way converted proper to the foot
If poetry channels our anger and sorrow
Who then will want to write it tomorrow
And will joy and contentment stifle its future?
And what will become of our stays and culture?
I say poetry has been victimized
Vilified, chastised, castigated and ostracized
Only perceived as a tool for struggle
Truths coded for smuggle
Yet poetry is just song void of tune
From the same rock hewn
For the lyrics that ride on the harmonies
Are sponsored by poetic abilities
Only poetry captures life’s odysseys
In whose form is crafted psalms and prophecies
If you want to know an expanse exceeding now
Poetry is the where and the how
Poetry in its recitation
May not cause rhythm and gyration
Care free melodies and chimes
That people seek in easy times
Until hard times force the weaning
Where people gain taste for meaning
A complementary aid for soul searching
To set the conscience forwardly marching
If poetry must fail in the market
Then it proves not to aim for your pocket
But a stinging dart to awaken your souls
When woes and lows purge all else from their roles
K. Muitherero
Expect changes that you know will grow this love in time
Expect these changes which should not be dreaded, but open each of our hearts like ROSE BUDS
Expect changes of a frantic bride waiting for her groom.
The types of changes which tips its hat to an AUTUMN AFTERNOON. Expect fiery changes that may consume each of our hearts in flames.
One beloved to another expect these changes of subtle pains that come with TORRENTIAL rains
Expect changes of social madness at a spring wedding of BLISS when kissed.
Now seasons turn with a twist
And all is fair on a summer afternoon. Expect changes which may stay 'til the festive SPARK of JUNE.
When all has SIMMERED and is fancy and steamy, acknowledge these days as FINE and DREAMY.
Then the LAUGHTER of spring and summer mingle when autumn touches and more to tingle.
Soon WINTER RUSHES in, a lightly falling snow exceeding the joy I hoped for akin to HUNGRY WAVES LICKING THE OCEAN'S GLADDENING SHORES.
Expect changes with impossible meanings, and fair weather dreamings!
discarded kites cemented on trees and
abandoned playgrounds with broken swings
must have been brothers in another life
with a mother who wasn't theirs
and a father who wasn't home
or were they calamitous lovers
the sun, and the moon
only to realise one is inferior; sun is a star too
or
or did they trade their lives for love
did they ever meet again?
someone is certainly exceeding me and
im certainly falling behind
were we, vulgar strangers
in our forgone lives?
indifferent because our similarities didn't echo
i don't know about you
but i must have been a madman
roaming around with a longing to be found
can a universe apart bring
you together if you're meant to be?
Oh, what a lovely web we dost weave
When first we practice to deceive.
What, on our next try, we conceive
Is too much B.S. to believe.
All of me is open for review
every moment spent in time with you,
the wakening with the rise of the sun
washing, dressing, breakfast on the run,
warmly heated cars rushing off
driving along the pothole streets slough
a bumpy start then no paths to ride
smooth and steady glides,
stiff chairs and desks set prone
e-mails, urgent papers shown
the daily grind keeps us here
in the physical reality sphere;
but somewhere in the daily quests
there is an escape but little rest
as all the efforts I have made
slip in and out of the twilight shade
and this here and now is not the only parade;
my life exists throughout the days
finding refuge in the clouds at bay
here the senses ignite to send me reeling
exceeding seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, feeling,
it's an emotional flush
wrapped in imagination's rush
a virtual escape
why would you hesitate?
Slip up, slide in and out your personal shroud
to the virtual reality up in the cloud.
I’m on my fourth lifeline
how about you
The first three pre-owned
the current one new
This one seems fleeting
which gives me concern
My freezer is empty
no steaks left to burn
The first one was blissful
the second had pain
The third one reflective
but this fourth one again….
I try to hold on
and describe it at will
Exceeding my grasp
it alludes me and still…
I wouldn’t go back
to either one, two, or three
The things I see now
ripened fruit on my tree
If this is the end
and the lights start to dim
I’ll sing the words strongly
Madonna’s last hymn…
“More thankful than troubled
more joyous than sad
“More today than tomorrow
—the past in the past”
(The First Book Of Prayers: February, 2018)
What Is It, Part II
The mind, a cloud of neurons
Packed snug within the deep grooves of the skull
Tiny worlds reaching out to all their neighbors
Across great gulfs of the brain
Communicates ceaselessly via little bolts of lightning
Adding to a sum far exceeding the whole;
The miracle of consciousness reborn every millisecond
Within the storm.
It knows what it is,
Has named itself,
Taken note there are other like storms roaming about.
Has contacted them and joined with them
Building knowledge, history, civilizations
Searching for more, evermore like itself
To find meaning in the fearful Vastness
It knows it is suspended in.
All this it does
Managing its frail,complicated Self.
It knows the body it inhabits dies,
Beyond which, it knows not.
But it speculates.
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