Blurred Realities Cryptic, Faded, Vague.
Questionable behaviors are they mere fantasies ?
No one is perfect, inhale, exhale.
I finally accepted I'm not anyone's favorite person.
People may routinely tell me what's best for me
And pretend they care when their actions don't
match their words.
Living someone else's reality became distorted
At the battlefield of this mental war.
Oftentimes fatiguing to consume these decisions to
over-ride this reflectiveness of My Blurred Realities.
Freedom's foundation
Birthed in choice
Thus emerges
Liberty's irony
Freedom feels fatiguing
Hot, humid, burning sun rays
it's the noon hour smack in the light of mid-day,
the random moments of a Monday deluge of renewal
back to work to the tied-down, set-in-place routines do all
pushing back the weekend play and scenes that flee;
the grit and grime of hard physical work release
managed, stressed, perspiration indiscrete,
the sedimentary desk chair resting weary feet
sequestered uncomfortable and lean
locked in closure at the old computer screens;
the phone tags to update this or that
the pay scales uneasily raised then taxed
paperwork printing to and from the fax;
just another day to start the beginning of the week
mundane, ordinary, fatiguing, ever on repeat
with the morning hours slipping past as we speak,
the noon hour
marking half the day,
complete.
Will old age cause any of these?
a) Tresses to become gray or white
b) Inability to sleep at night
c) Just when sleep finally arrives, nocturia
d) For men maybe prostate problems with anuria
e) Some of the above, all of the above or none of the above
Can old age bring one or all of these?
a) Memory loss and maybe loss of keys
b) Getting chilled by a little breeze
c) Knees that creak, shoulders that ache
d) Inability to chew a good steak
e) Some of the above, all of the above or none of the above
As life goes on and on, do any of these come along?
a) Skin that starts to show spots
b) Some skin spots cancerous, believe it or not
c) Wrinkles line the brow and smile
d) Sitting down means napping awhile
e) Some of the above, all of the above or none of the above
All in all, is aging like this?
a) Standing for a long time, is quite fatiguing
b) No more the opposite sex intriguing
c) When someone speaks, words get slurred
d) Words in books are quite blurred
e) Some of the above, all of the above or none of the above
After all, I have to say, "He fills my life with good things" each day. Psalms 103: 5
For sickness, for weariness
What, more world-fatiguing
Appals, too brightly aware
Through hot self-accusing stare
Will to live bores deep in
Seductive as a whisper
The call to sleep, saves.
Which great peace, issued from out
Which place, soft-winged, beds about
Child, stood guard o'er, craves.
A consistently poor wage
Licenses rage:
An ugly fight against the cage,
Steady enveloping of stagnant wage,
A temper warning every wedge,
Rising while lowered with vintage.
Hirers open a sterile page,
Not a complimenting line for a sage:
Reflections of his usage,
Not a half paragraph for his adage…
The low income earner won’t this manage,
Nor life in his fatiguing village:
The vast hum drums sight,
Of farm-tools tauntingly bright,
For all their promises of fast tillage,
Putting The Townie at a disadvantage.
Any hopelessly downsized wage,
Is cash that the teeth sets on edge,
The Hired white with shock
Over Hirer’s heart of steely lock.
His eyes tired with endless sights
Against web's background whites,
Heavied by seas of tips and dots;
All spun and cast by lifeless bots.
His ears deaf to loudest bangs
Listen still to thundering gangs,
Detailing zillion wares of worth;
All distinguished by fiscal math.
His lamed limbs yet peregranate
Between countless errands' bait,
Each more vital than the previous;
Fettered by cords fizzling devious.
His breath and total being all sore
Last collapse under fatiguing woe,
Every ghoulish groan more piteous
Than doom's under-soil enclosures.
And sigh not for he has lived.
Pen eulogistic elegy trimmed
With nifty poets' finest tropes,
On one who nursed tall hopes.
Death was uglier than I knew
Sure I had heard the fire and brimstone rumors,
But I had never actually believed them.
Death came at me with a hard set face.
A vacant skull head, trotting with purpose.
I saw her weapons and wondered what she would use.
I would not go easy, I thought. I felt superior because of it.
Death sneered, showing me a rancid, ugly, mean side I had never seen.
I picked up my arsenal of tricks, determined to battle.
It was a ridiculous façade of a fight, fatiguing and defeating.
I felt like a rag doll as she carried me off into the fray of a bigger battle.
She threw me onto a pyre, and burned my body beyond recognition.
As the smell of burning flesh entered my nostrils, I felt less smug.
AMBER
Amber described her.
High yellow like the sun itself
With a inside orange like a
Fresh lit fire.
Eyes so intriguing, heart so fatiguing
From critiquing men,
That weakened her.
Men that weekend her when she deserved
All the days on the calendar.
So beautiful she once was
With a smile that could brighten up
The stormiest day
And a mind which was once used,
Now abused and confused.
Her heart of gold was sold
To the lowest bid, and the old pains is hard to rid.
That cut on her left chest
Is still open after so long, it just wants to heal.
Constant pain that trembles up her spine
From constantly bending over backwards
To satisfy people.
Now that fresh lit fire inside her
Continues burning.
That door that stands inside her heart
Is no longer turning.
Those eyes that was intriguing
Is now reeking of bad vibes,
That smile she once had decided to hide.
She raised her pride, it lowered her cries
Now she only cries inside.
But, that is Amber.
Amber is who I’ve described.
Oh! Today I bring for you:
The Apricots of blue-hilly Ladakh
Almond beans of verdant valley Kashmir
Cashew-nuts and coconut of coastal green Kerala
The raisins of old-arty Iran
Wet dates of sizzling sandy Arab.
Forget not! To have them every evening—a few,
Opening these slow-days’ fatiguing fasts,
Reclined after dinner having a cup of hot tea;
When the old crows belatedly return their nests
Inside their burrows—the woody lofty boughs
Of the hefty chinars, and make some pleasing noise;
When the day’s dozing
And the night’s washing her long-slept eyes.
(written in the holy month of Ramdan- perhaps august 2011)
Emerald is her name.
She creeps up on you,
Unsuspecting.
Beautiful green eyes
Capture your soul,
Hypnotizing.
Energy vampire,
Sucking your happiness,
Fatiguing.
Consuming your life
With unbridled envy,
Overbearing.
Murderer of the positive,
Deadly sin of poison,
Contaminating.
An exhausting emotion,
Jealousy ruins her,
Unbecoming.
The Heart
1 The heart has many chambers it is just like a small pump
2 Tyrones’ is getting full and needs cleaning like a sump.
3 It’s a difficult thing to clean a human heart
4 With what to keep and with what to part.
5 A double pump.
6 The heart is not like an EYE
7 The heart is what lets you live or die
8 Look after your double pumped heart
9 Or from this world you may have to depart.
10 England has a high rate of heart disease
11 Blocked arteries do not appease, doctor agrees, eat more berries for good hearts and good bodies.
12 Our hearts are our life line
13 “Anyone who has a Heart” will be fine.
14 Happy and upbeat all the way along the line
15 Exercise is laborious, difficult, fatiguing and arduous
16 But you can sing out in divine chorus
17 Happy eyes are what we see a when we have a fit body
18 Not our lives running on empty
19 Take a grip and live life while in your prime
20 But perhaps not it has now lost its prime. (My Birthday Suit)
©4/06/2012 ~GG~
Competition entry for Tracies Mish Mash contest
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