WITH EYES STILL ON THE MARCHING PRIZE
(APROPOS OF AN MLK DAY REFLECTION)
With eyes on the prize,
Let us climb freedom’s mountain:
Topping liberty:-
Be a Drum Major,
Leading liberty’s parade
Up the mountaintop:
Guiding marchers onward to
Freedom, justice, and equality:-
Don’t let anything
Try to deter the journey:
You’re not Sisyphus;
Just keep on climbing:-
God navigating,
Let’s march to reality;
Our dream coming true:-
And nobody can turn us back:
Our faith, drum majoring us:-
Given the Dream’s route,
Let’s move up the mountainside:
Topping injustice:-
Railroading onward,
Has been tracked by ancestors:
God navigating:-
Today’s oppression,
We shall also overcome:
Flushing bigotry:-
Let justice’s waters unclog
Today’s red-pooped injustice:-
Let’s flush it all down!
Including red-stained echoes
From loose bowel-mouths:-
Unless it's an Indian gift from the karmic sky-gypsies
it’s not going to last.
Maybe you have lots of it,
but sooner or later
the 'told you so' pigmy bobble-heads of Mu
will make it known to you
that they are watching your every distracted move,
and their taking receipts
back to long abandoned thrift shops.
Amazon's plastic chop suey
will keep you spinning in circles like a drunk skunk.
The very wealthy flush it 2 times
just to clear their own much trapped crap.
Stuff is also for the downtrodden masses,
who renovate it to fit their cramped lifestyles.
In the end it’s all utter clutter
that digs the captive soul
deeper and deeper.
Best to gather together what no one wants
then wait,
until inevitably -
they do.
Written By: D. Collins 6/6/25
Big men shivered when he got into the paint.
Knowing they're a victim of his vicious faints.
He had the meanest crossover anyone has ever seen.
Even Michael Jordan got postered on our T.V. screens.
He was a little man with the heart and will of a bull.
Made many so-called professionals look like a fool.
None of the NBA teams had an "answer" for him.
When we thought he wouldn't he'd flush it at the rim.
He made all big men respect and fear the little guy.
Often shaking their heads from a heavy dose of AI.
His mark on the game should stand out in our minds.
He was the best little, big man to play between the lines.
Recovery turns to reduction.
Curing a disorder of consumption through crumbs,
Staring at the dish before me,
An enemy of the state of my mind.
I fear I’ll turn back to a pantry for protection,
While taking microbites in front of peers.
My fear turns to fullness,
And I empty my being,
My soul,
My vitality
And flush it away.
I f***ing hate this life,
I can't do this,
You leave me in the dark,
I hate the unknown.
I want to kill myself,
End this f***ing torment,
You wouldn't even care,
You'd be fine without me.
I mean absolutely nothing to you,
You show that with your actions,
If I disappeared, you wouldn't notice.
What's the f***ing point.
Take my breath,
Shed my blood,
Cut out my heart and watch it stop,
Take it, lifeless and toss it in the trash,
Who f***ing cares.
I sure don't,
I would be released from this feeling,
This feeling I f***ing hate,
Dread, dark, and evil,
Take my soul and burn it.
I gave it to you, so do with it what you please.
Pour the gas on, light it up.
Flush it down the toilet,
Cut it into pieces,
Crush it with a hammer,
Who. F***ing. Cares. No one.
I wouldn't be missed,
Just a memory of few,
Soon to be forgotten.
No purpose. You took that.
No reason, you took that too,
No f***ing worth, just a mistake.
Might as well just end it all.
Move on to the next stage.
Heaven? Hell? Who f***ing cares.
Already living in hell.
I don't want to feel anymore.
If this is all I have.
F*** it all. F***. It. All.
Goodbye.
With all the time I spend on rhyme
in vain pursuit of beauty
I neglect to help my fellow man
and fail my forsworn duty
So this vow I make right now
Do not think I take it lightly ~
to rig up my toilet to fertilize my lawn
and flush it day and nightly
Let’s bring back the GOOD OLD DAYS
Grab that washboard and some lye soap
Hang those wet clothes on a limp rope
Chop some wood, build a fire
The kids new swing a worn out tire
Park that car up on the front “lawn”
‘cause all the gasoline is gone
Wash your dishes in a bucket
When ya poop don’t dare to flush it
Separate and please recycle
returning home on your BI-CYCLE
after dark, laundry’s still damp
where’s my NEW kerosene lamp
I’m setting traps for squirrel and rabbit
Meat eating’s such a FILTHY HABIT
I read a book, I’m such a scamp
Under an incandescent lamp
Gotta go, it’s almost sun-up
Gotta go and guard my turnips
But first I’ll eat my Covid Era Pop Tarts
And get arrested for my Methane Gas Farts
There once was a bucket from Nantucket
[Trump*]'s aides must make time to lug it
While running for office
His sh!t from each orifice
Needs giant commodes just to flush it
*In order to promote fairness, the reader can insert any selfish politician, CEO, or other name in the brackets. Sadly, there's no shortage of good choices.
I would want that all to happen for the first time.
I want all these feelings to be washed away.
I want to feel the warmth of the sun for the first time once.
I wanna cry in my mothers arms for the first time once again.
I wanna crawl back into her arms for the first time once again,
Those arms used to take my pain away.
I wanna see the flight of a butterfly for the first time once again;
No wonder that’s a gaze.
I wanna believe in magic for the first time.
I want the tooth fairy to teach me loosing’s a gain,
For the first time once again.
I wanna dance for the first time and feel that fall once again.
I wanna be touched by the love of my life for the first time once again,
But this time I want to be able to wash it all away.
I wanna drain all of my sorrows, I don’t want to be judged on my way.
I don’t wanna drown in the sorrow,
I want to make it happen for the first time all over again.
It’s no wonder I am in search of that first time once again.
I wish, I could, If I could, I would, flush it all away.
I want these unwanted memories to wash off so that,
I can feel it for the first time all over again.
[The Candyman]
Who can take a hairball?
Blame it on the cat
Flush it down the tank
And you laugh a lot for that
It’s the handyman
Yes, it's the handyman
The handyman can
‘Cause you pay him for the laugh
When the laugh is on you
Yes, the laugh is on you
‘Cause he took you for a fool
And he’s not done yet
(No, he’s not done yet!)
The handyman makes
Everything he breaks
Work again for just a minute
It’s your money-did he win it
Only when you hear him spin it
Now you got a problem
Who you gonna call?
Your handyman is gone
‘Til the late, late fall
But he’s your handyman
Yes, he's your handyman
And your handyman can
If you bought the monthly plan
And your boa gets loose
When your boa gets loose
Then your cat disappears
And the hairballs stop
(So the skids run dry)
Now, you can laugh again
Yes, you can laugh again
Give the man a hug
For a slime-free rug
'Cause he's your handyman.
Heaven gladly accepted me
My heart is so full of glee
Cause I'd never thought I'd be
In a place where love is free
My excitements giving me
The sudden urge to go wee-wee
I look around and finally see
Where I sit and tinkle pee
On a "throne" so heavenly
My bladder is now happy
Now that it is urine free
The shiny bowl is so pretty
The waters very shimmery
When I flush it instantly
Refills with a rainbowy
Colorful and brilliantly
Liquid that smells pleasantly
Now bathroom trips personally
Are not a chore and genuinely
I look forward to daily
Flushing after leisurely
Sitting soft and comfortably
In a spot so privately
Reserved everyday for me
With lockdowns and fear the past year was drear.
Today it is dark and dank and dripping,
slate grey. The sun refuses to appear.
Wild winds have eased to drabness as nothing.
Winter solstice offered little of cheer
with moods of many sadly depressing.
Prospects for travelling out of our tier
are restricted; there's so much we're missing.
To get rid of the old it's time for a crap,
to get the hell out of me, flush it away.
What a relief! I feel better for that,
hoping for freedom beyond new year's day.
A world is beckoning, one without zoom,
of meeting together in the same room.
The wind is howling like a massive storm inside.
Can’t let it out, can’t hold it in.
Yes, I am fed up but don’t know how to flush it out.
Like I am entangled in the chocking ropes.
I know, it’s a difficult journey, I have to deal with it.
The fear is killing me, though I am sure I'll live it up.
I am sinking from dawn till shuddering dusk.
The result would scare me or would it be a good luck?
I turn around to see my hopeful beloved family,
Their love, their faith further scares me!
If I don’t make it! Would everything go away?
Yes, it scares…...I feel I am about to fray!
I am strolling in dark, maybe I will fall someday.
I wonder what will go away and what will stay!
Maybe I am finished, may be on cloud nine.
I worked hard; the success should be mine!
Every thing seems so lifeless and hollow.
Do you feel the vacuum around, which might swallow!
I want to be positive; I want to touch the stars.
For every dedicated student, I want to leave a mark.
I know this isn’t the end, lot more to go.
Lots of happy moments are waiting in a row!
Lots more to achieve, lots more to show.
STILL, why this heart thumps and why am I following the dark shadow!
Here's a box of gas station chocolates
for all the raucous and raunch I've put you through...
And here's a fistful of grocery store roses
to wash away a year of black and blue.
Enduring is the name of the mating game.
An ounce of sweetness, then flush it down the drain.
Never quite meeting love in the middle-always on the fray.
Oh, and the mind games that I fancy to play.
Sadistic mime in a dried-out fishbowl.
Spitting out the gravel of the blame.
Happy Valentine's Day cracks the old crow.
“It” is a dummy when “it” asks the time
or speaks of the weather, like when you say,
“It’s eight” or “It’s snowing.” “It” is a crime
to just ignore “it” in “It’s a nice day!”
In so many places can this “it” fit.
In “Stop it” or “Do it,” “it’s” just a prop!
But then there’s anticipatory “it,”
and here's an example: "It's fun to shop."
And here's another: “It’s good to see you.”
“What’s good,” I ask? “To see you” is good.
Reverse the sentence; flush “it” down the loo!
Folks, though, still will prefer “it” (as they should)!
A singular pronoun is “it,” but much more.
Let’s enjoy “it” and all “it” is used for!
Dec. 5, 2017
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