When life gets rough we always look for a way out
The mighty slugger saunted to the plate
The sun dipped in the sky, 'twas getting late
First he swung and he missed
But the next pitch he 'kissed'
Out of the park ~ onto the Interstate
Secrets spooned over !
the dipping of toast
into the steamed cup captured espresso.
Un-asked answerless questions.
They return spinning in an orbit of not knowing.
Chairs scattered; cold empty seats
the previous occupiers never to return !
All doors are open! and locked mindfully:
Between them truth struggles to breathe
choked by lies, in long dark years.
Now all exits lead out away beyond teenage years;
and their failing to look and ask .
The walls know! its dissolved into their existence.
To many doors, and not enough exits,
and a lost code of answers
sleep in distant soils and ashes,
still you don't know !
And never will.
The Winter Mist
The winter mist
Which no can twist
I knew you exist
Although in a cyst
Never failing to appear
When all you could do was disappear
You stayed
When you frayed
And you waited
When things faded
And yet you left
When you could deft
I returned to my mess
Now covered in tress
To find you gone
As if I’d always been lone
I should have known
To avoid being blown
But I did not see
And now there’s nothing left to be seen..
A child is somewhere scribbling,
not quite knowing what to say,
a junkie with a habit of empty words.
The smart money’s on failure
and I can’t seem to sleep,
because the moon is leaking sliver fears.
The polar-bear cocktail,
paints a chalk barricade,
that incoherent scolding's cannot climb.
Hope went unnoticed,
until it was lost,
but sudden silence
- came to make me new.
The marks of quiet panic
- those flickering tattoos,
fade - like specters in the sun.
In the company of kindness,
peace glitters just like glass,
and the witch in the mirror slinks away.
You’ll find me at the exit,
heading for a steady sea,
my uninformed perspective’s in my bag.
I navigate like driftwood,
hoping for a return trip,
my plans are coherent in my dreams .
p.s. I write short stories too =]
J-ust
E-ye
A-nother
N-ew
D-awn's
I-mage
A-fter
N-atural
N-ight
E-xits
T-o
A-t
L-east
E-xperience
N-ice
T-ime's
O-penness
Topic: Birthday of Jean Dianne A. Talento (October 23)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-orn
A-bates
R-ain
I-f
T-yphoon
E-xits
S-o
A-nother
B-eacon
E-ndorses
L-ovely
L-ight
E-mitting
R-ays
A-new
Topic: Birthday of Marites Abellera (October 15)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
E-arly
D-awn's
L-ight
E-ndorses
N-ew
M-orn
A-nd
R-ay
I-n
E-ffulgent
G-low
R-eappears
A-s
N-ight
D-arkness
E-xits
Topic: Birthday of Edlen Marie Grande (September 21)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
insecurity was a fight
complexes were a height
skinny or fat- a sin
society wins
calling **** a new game
calling stud a new maze
gaming of hearts
processing of beats
true love a blund sight
fake was a new area
but still she belives in love
i said y
she said
i have been waiting for a prince
who truly understands me
i said true love never exits
she said it is
i said how
she said it with a wow
life still exits
and life never resista
i see with my her eyes
thay her prince comes
and overdarkened ways were brighten up
then i understand true love exits
hope for love
belive in my eyes..
L- ight
O-f
I-mpressive
D-awn
A-ppears
T-o
I-llumine
M-orn
O-nce
T-wilight
E-xits
O-rdinarily
Topic: Birthday of Loida Timoteo (August 09)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
F-ine
E-arly
M-orn
E-agerly
L-ets
Y-our
N-ight
P-ass
A-s
L-onely
C-hill
E-xits
Topic: Birthday of Femelyn L. Palce (August 06)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
E-arly
L-ight
L-ets
A-nother
R-adiance
O-pen
S-ilently
E-rasing
L-ife's
L-onely
E-vening
M-ist
O-nce
R-ain
T-otally
E-xits
Topic: Birthday of Ella Roselle A. Morte (July 19)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Despite its proverbial might, the Glass Ceiling
Couldn’t freeze the dream God wrote on the page
Where my misery and the sad feeling
That in its ribald rage
Strove hard my priceless dream to delete and defeat
Breathing hard on my neck
Snatching from my outstretched hands the succulent sweet
Destined from my life to break
The jinx
That hitherto kept frustrating my career progress
When its serpent sticks
Determined to undress
My future
Until God’s hands
By dint of their victorious culture
Smashed to smithereens the brands
Whose furnace fire grew cold
Restoring my dream
With a move so bold
Into my hands God landed my career’s ice cream
Commanding the Glass Ceiling to step aside
Convening and commencing the inauguration ceremony
In which my pride
Flew back and grew strong as though a scripture from Deuteronomy
Installed me on the throne
As a mighty queen
Without any further obstacle in my career zone
Enabling me to reign supreme in a kingdom clean and green.
'Check in' is not at three in the afternoon
Why, you can check in any time you like
She welcomes you, and pretending to be in love with you,
she's always glad to see you come
But in reality, she hates you and in short order you'll see, she has no intention of letting you go. Oh it's true, you can check out at eleven next morn or anytime you like, as many have learned before.
So make yourself at home and have all the fun to your delight, cause you are never going to leave. You shouldn't go there, but since you insist, you might as well know that you will surely be deceived. No reservations required; no need to call; there is always plenty of room at her great escape
A refuge to get away to, only to realize a fasade from which you cannot escape.
Everyone there is a prisoner of their own devices, and have no one but themselves to blame. All arrivals via self-destruction; it's too late to
'wise up'; there are no exits via 'bullet trains'.
07282017PSContest, Iconic Songs, Silent One; Song, Hotel California, The Eagles
Bury my heart in trivia.
Keep my mind stuck in minutia.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Keep me from knowing what is right,
directed by detours to spite,
the dam internet's a scam
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Instant knowledge gains attention,
knowledge without wit or wisdom.
Human touch replaced by a mouse,
human feelings contained, in house.
conversation within glass fibers.
Real replaced by sad virtuals.
We keep the mass hunger sated.
We keep thinking minds muted.
Bread and circus work to perfection,
novelties make roadkill of traditions.
Real streets contain violence, racism, and malice,
while we genocidists, well protected
and free are now off on a spree
down cyber route six sixty-six.
Is this simply a lone luddite's lament,
or someone's conscious coherent comment?
I no longer know, reduced as I am,
to hitchhiking through mist on a mantra.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man
off the road into distraction.
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