Blue’s Clues Cue for the Kidding Kids
Wonder about the kids we raise,
Too many screwy videos in a haze,
Take your bids, it’s a twisted game,
I smoked a lid just to feel the same.
Skid row’s tale that is far from fantastic,
Put it on plastic, the world can be drastic.
[Chorus]
We might NOT be heaven bound,
Yet we wear the crown, cannot keep us down,
Sipping the blues, got the rhythm of the town,
In a world of chaos, we stand our ground.
[Verse 2]
Been with another fiend, it isn’t just a dream,
Not another green bean caught in the scheme,
Join the A-Team, we’re pulling it tight,
Black and white, read all over the fuss,
While Mars rover takes off in the dust.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Blue Bonnets bloom in the moon’s glow,
No one needs to know, just let it flow.
.
meditating
Yahweh Perfect
Created
beyond mine imagine
*Sunday'z Testimony
Morning time, will pass by soon
Few more ticks, be afternoon
Evening time, be here real fast
'Fore, you know it
The day has passed
Another day, come pretty quick
Morning time, just one more tick
Afternoon, well don't you know
'Fore, you know it
Will come and go
Time fly's by, so fast these days
Another day, another phase
Another evening, is just ahead
'Fore, you know it
It's time for bed
Scots golfers do not 'golf'
as they say in the U.S.A.
invented in Scotland
it's as they ought
a sport the Scottish play
the first tennis player
known by name
(Louis X)
did not 'tennis'
when he played the game
even so I may one day
bend my elbow
consider the racket
and give it a go
looks like the language
is slowly downward drifting
and come this Christmas
you won't see me 'gifting'
when did a noun become a verb
misconjugated by ignorant clowns
as English is oft Yanked and twisted
by illiterate dimwits verbing nouns
Where the hail crests the sunlight by the hill on which we laid
Though the bedding were not empty as the rocks did fight away
In the confounds of our memories too soon pass ways galore
Love then dines as faiths are born to the measure of one’s hearts true implore
Then the captives of the waves sang loudly as a choir
Till the sodden depths remained the same
still titles were yet held within the unquenched flame
Bore the night the sparkling sky for the darkened purply never rests
As the widow of a King bore all that she had torn
Combing hill after dale for the goodness is there born
See thine self for thyself in truth before wisdom is saddled upon the shelf
Shalden…
Come gather round folks, one and all,
Ignore the pall of fake-ball call and gall.
Let's play a round of golf with friends,
Where favors flow and logic truly ends.
All listed experience and resumes we'll scoff at those,
We need buddies, cronies whose friendship shows.
'Fore!' is the call, as ball goes out of bounds,
'No worries!' just kick it back, into the grounds.
We make up the rules, so surely that's fair?
You're hired, my pal, justly pull up a chair!
In my poems you will find
Introspections from a worldly mind.
Some are pensive, some are kind,
But they helped me pass my time.
I hope that you’ll enjoy my wit,
And don’t consider me a twit.
By the time you read my poems all through,
You’ll find that I am very much like you.
In my poems, you will see
Life’s dominant personalities.
As words poured freely from my mind,
These personalities slowly were defined.
Some thoughts are flippant, and some are tender,
Some are distant, but still rendered.
Most are harmless, but some are lethal,
And some were borrowed from other people.
Some poems are passionate, yet filled with strife
And though not pretty, they’re part of life.
Some will leave you open-eyed.
So, buckle up for a sentient ride.
Gathered 'round the table
moments 'fore the feast
Heads down, hands folded
thanking God for what they'd eat
They ate like no tomorrow
bellies stuffed, plates vacuum-clean
Waddled off to the dessert buffet
G-d forsaken in this scene
When Deep Darkness And Shadows Race To Fore
Heartache is oft an invisible cut
Within the silent and deadly new field
Black boulders bring amidst deepening ruts,
Calamity, which oft one finds no shield.
Flung from sticky webs of hideous dark
Into the depths of an innocent soul
Unrelenting, to make a galling mark,
Its newborn despair taking wicked toll.
What to do to stop such dark woe-some flow
Destroying past happiness with its veil
Injecting agony as a new show,
Whilst poor soul often slides past gates of hell.
Dawn's welcoming sun is no longer seen
Nor those bright golden beams that heart so cheer
As despair casts forth its shadowy sheen,
Lost hope, becomes sad shades of looming fear.
Robert J. Lindley,
10-13-2021
Note:
Sometimes the gate opens and dark invades..
Forsake me my clumsy heart
I have known peace and joy
But held them as a baby held a toy
How foolish a mischief on my part
Daring darling endeavours
Gaming the survival tempest
Stunts begrudge in me a shredded grandeur
I have found the misery I sought
After war is peace
The folklore reminds me a call to action
The steps I braved shape me motionless
I fret on how beyond is history ahead of my time
Glory glory
I enjoy the distant story
But my present flow
Praised me master of pain
Novice to tranquillity
Disintegration so delicate
Angonizing my ardor with great artistry
Destruction going so far with distraction
No allow even the cunning faith of mine to burlglarize its masterpiece
Married to only what’s on the page,
each word I wedded
The cheers and accolades silenced,
my vow applauded
Spoken or read each line was reborn,
within the covers
That blanket the fore and after of time
—betrothed to forever
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
Ran out the door and realize
I’d left my keys inside
Standing falling snow
I’ve been here before
And still again
Here I am
Perfect hindsight shows
I’ve never learned to look ahead
There are things
I’ve should have done
So I would not
Be catching snow
How many times
Will I need
Before I learn
To plan ahead
Staring Fore and Aft
By: Tom Wright
5/12/03]
We oft stare hinder,
knowing that there, lurks only time spent.
We embrace in thought those days without birth,
while probing their existence.
We're cognizant of frailties at discerning the future.
We should rather, focus on time at hand
for this is all we possess.
Time can ne'er be secure beyond today’s moment.
WHAT IF DEATH IS DEAD?
What If he is gone?
far away with his gun
to rest forever in his dome
though hell as a home
What shall become of us?
hastily I ask thus
if sucker of our souls is dead
lest we live in great dread
What of his forerunner?
old age sitting in a corner
that shall tremor us tremendously
never again we stand sedulously
Who shall put a death blow?
when old ages glow
leave us not at this juncture
save our future from torture
©2019
Broken wing, cracked heel, dinged fender
There's always something busted to fluster intention
An excuse pulled from quiver,
To send arrow in reverse.
To pull away, questioning,
Doubt defeating resolve,
Willpower bent to neigh and sway.
The good ship "Self" is always broken.
Faults and breaks litter the decks
Patches and quick fixes
Good enough for now
Keep "Self" sailing, broken, battered
But feeling fine and dandy,
Unfettered by paraphernalia's blah and blah
A spirit with wings resilient,
Cannot be tethered by contraption's flaws.
Even sore broken wings, patched and fixed
Are good enough for spirit to soar to fore
As done so well, OK or just swell, before.
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