Are we living in a dream world
Contrasting the real world
When we're small
We started dreaming
A dream world appeared suddenly
In front of the real world
Are we still living there
No,we aren't
Now even frustrations and mishaps we face
Still
We're full of hopes and expectations
We face,we fight,we wish and we pray
Writing poetry draws one within
allowing the inward self to demonstrate
all that's been down there deep and dark
making your light shine before its too late
Irritation is a descriptive word
one that we all seek to emulate
it tasks our mind to our extreme
pointing higher worthy to contemplate
Consider the classical violinist supreme
who has a true ever living ear
but the challenge of quality reproduction
making the fingers touch without fear
But these fingers have a mind of their own
which can stop any reproduction
no matter how the sound comes over
it all continued under construction
The frustrations of a poetic writer
causes irritation within the grey matter
but there's hope with a capital H
inspiration comes to get one on a starter
'Quote:
" I am irritated by my own writing. I am like a violinist whose ear is true, but whose fingers refuse to reproduce precisely the sound he hears within."
- Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) French Novelist.
When Corona came, I was on Reunion Island
Indian Ocean environs, nearer native South Africa ...
Transplanted, I have planted a garden, thrived
Without any research, butternuts survived
But in my pot and that of a friend's -
We grew Mint, Coriander, Hot Peppers, Lentils
The last was a challenge: to clean off the chaff
Transplanted, I planted again in Africa
Marigolds, Neem, Geranium, even white Lilies
Cruel fate does meddle with the hands on the clock
Seizing fate and destroying ambition.
Such simple, yet effective manipulation
Forcing all from cradle to grave,
under the direction of destiny's frail hands
and on such rare occasion
that luck may just prevail
by even minute chances do the grains of time repair
and its tedious cycle starts anew
Such ferocity in the bindings of our beings
That we cannot grasp an understanding of life and its makings
Does darkness dare enthrall us all at the end of this long journey
Into light I was born from darkness and mystery
Into light I'll descend from darkness and misery
Who are we to question the secretive bonds behind it all
Merely pawns we are placed to play our parts
Disappearing through deaths dark door at the end of our show
Ever whispering
Never heard
Forever more
Can't reach those cookies
at five... can't date till I'm twelve...
can't drive a car till
sixteen...can't buy a drink then...
Off to fight wars at eighteen...
In half filled bowl
Goldfish circling and circling
Mouthing bubbles
Frustrations
By Charles G.P. Chard 2nd
Chevra Gavri Hanita Hazaka Abir Selek 2nd
Computers are a very needful thing,
In this day we live in,
Their programs and your thoughts do not agree,
Frustrations and anger set in,
It constantly will not do what you need done,
You feel like punching it out,
Why programs can’t be made simple and easy,
Relieving you from frustrations and anger,
Is there some program that will manage what you need done?
Can this program be found anywhere on the internet,
Frustration and aggravation,
Anger and hopelessness,
Who can help with such a complex task?
Giving hope and peace of mind,
Why do these computer complexities happen?
Does no one care that there are others like me?
Can no one solve the problem?
Up set, unrest,
Perplexity and non comprehension,
Fingernails sliding down a blackboard,
A piercing yet disturbing sound,
Skin crawls,
What can we do? what should we do?,
But live with hopelessness, in despair, frustrated and angry.
Your aura packs rapt confusion -
it snap drags me with a cyclone’s aloof ~
Your spring perfume cloaks your stroked fall spoof
and your bright appeal conceals delusion -
yet, my eager seeks your smoked flair’s intrusion.
My climbing hope seeks a clue -
it examines gaps in your fickle climate ~
I attempt to riot your depths of private.
Your sky-air raises hints of midnight blue
to dance breezy-twirls on my need's point of view.
Intoxication steeps your vibrations -
flirt notes disguise your spirit’s tone ~
still my swollen need seeks burns in your cool zone.
Your essence boasts self-confident foundations
while my patina pales from riled frustrations.
As our patience wears thin
We encounter the Moment
Where our frustrations
Boil to the surface
That deep part of us
We choose not to reveal
Even to ourselves
Is the legend of nightmares
For what awaits us
When this dimension surfaces
Are bits and pieces of knowledge about who we are
That are too painful to see in the clear light of day
Better to be afflicted
With all manner of ache and pain
Than to see
A part of which we really are
This denial
Has an expiration date for all
Yet most wish to stay in denial
And passively wait for that date to transpire
Rather than actively confront truth
If only we could believe
Really believe
That by confronting and exposing these
Inner dimensions of ourselves
We are actually addressing the nightmare
Changing who we are
And eliminating that expiration date
From having any real meaning
Always something
Depression -
illnesses of one
kind or another
drill holes into
our happiness
The sky may be
clear or overcast
but either way
we have plenty to
worry about
Yet frustrations
melt way
for brief periods
we can experience
joy
The karmic wheel
may turn in
our direction
and bring us peace
So look beyond the setbacks
and the naysayers
Feel the rays of love
coming from the sun
which will shine upon you
in the end
Namaste!
Life is full of all kinds
frustrations all the day long
makes one uptight and edgy
finds you singing a sad song
Somebody may say a wrong word
puts you on real short fuse
which could spark so easy
wish could tell life please excuse
The worst is that awful temper
that simmers there deep below
even when you think it's licked
it rises up to tell you no
I'll frustrate you continually
Mr temper whispers in your ear
you are under my constant control
this battle causes many a tear
On my knees often to pray
seeking deliverance is the cry
may this victory be won
someday before I do die
(just a few thoughts on some of the frustrations of life and the effects that they can have on all of us.)
Aching with such soreness, the thought
of touching glass longing to shatter in pieces
but uncertain as to how much force.
Strength of varying degrees to apply
and yet fearful of shattered glass,
brittle grains of sand and levels
of the unknown.
Grey dark clouds heavy laden with drops.
Looking to burst but just waters in motion,
waiting, titillating in jest almost laughing down.
Provoking a longing to reach up, to burst that bubble
to feel the coolness and freshness of relief.
Yet so far above, cannot reach
miles of the unknown.
A grain of sand between bones
grinding when dryness has set in.
So very painful like gallstones
excreted thru the wrong passage
no relief even death unquestioned,
a vital option to touch the unknown.
and so it was that after a good run of
great sex & many lovers,
s/he came across a period of time unlike
any of her/his friends could come close to comparing,
a time of
frustrating
hiccup-fart
orgasms.
each time s/he was getting towards that final punch of that final round
rockin’ & a sockin’ like the robots themselves,
off went the gas pumps inside &
oh
the
embarrassment---
the kissing went ripe as the
hiccups blew in the face of the lover still trying to concentrate
(and dinner only a few minutes/hours ago, now cascading in a fine mist across the face) &
as if that wasn’t enough to drive a stake in any
romance of any satisfactory quality,
out came the blast from the other end
filling the scene with
custom methane &
sooner than later
(as if it was anticipated anymore by the other party),
the end result of
what coulda’ been,
shoulda’ been,
but clearly
wasn’t.
Dealing With Life’s Frustrations
By Elton Camp
Are you so tired of a pointless rat race
An endless barrage of problems to face
A mortgage so large it’ll never end
Credit card debt too big to reign in
Utility bills that constantly increase
Unexpected expenses that never cease
Payment on your car is way too steep
Gas that will never again be cheap
Constant fear that you might get fired
But of pressure at work really tired
Maybe it is finally time reality to see
From it all, simply cut yourself free
Don’t dismiss this idea out of hand
Move to a cave & live off the land
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