Mental illness is like a cabbage.
It leaves leaves all around, and is edible.
Leaves you with radioactive burns.
Mental illness gambles with life.
She asks if I want coffee.
There’s cheese over there.
Threatening.
She makes me guard the cauldron.
It’s filled with liquid amber.
Shaking.
It gives you rabies.
Mental illness guards poison.
Tells you that you could make money with the poison.
And you could.
Mental illness is like a cabbage.
Tells you to make a stew with it.
I was there standing talking to you
A boldness to a new world of confidence and will
Gently pulling the secret strings of my heart
Each minute she speaks
Its as if with an angel s voice
She guards her disguise
Notes fall down like snowflakes
Melting on my nose ,cheeks and brow
Ill sleep well tonight
Hoping to dream of your playful ways
It may be love
Or just a bridge over a feeling
To get to a special place
Like a beautiful spot to picnic in nature
It rediscovers me as a kid
When I was happy to be alone
In a World I made up to explore
By now,the interest of attraction has become an art
Spent my money on gambles of loneliness and moments that smile back
Notes fall down like snowflakes
Melting on my nose,cheeks and brow
Ill sleep well tonight ,hoping to dream of your playful ways
It may be love or a bridge over a feeling
To get to a special place
All I have is my thanks
Even just to be my friend
HOSTAGES TO FORTUNE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Luck—that’s what some call it, a capricious cotillion with probability, eventually holding one hostage to fortune…” quote by the poet
***************
Onlookers watch, brows furrowed with wisdom,
judging the inanity of my gambles, the absurdity of my heart~
the unwise pledge made to destiny and chance.
Is it luck I chase or a deeper current pulling me onward,
a commitment to something unseen~
a surrender to the unknown Hand that guides me?
Consequences sometimes sharp and bitter~
Are they lessons etched in pain or moments of grace,
divinely ordained, the Master shaping my soul?
Were my falls intended all along,
an awkward dance orchestrated by a Divine hand,
making me a willing hostage not to fortune but to faith?
Yes, I am a hostage, bound and gladly surrendered~
a devotee of faith's uncertain embrace.
In my captivity, I find the ultimate freedom.
Lessons From History
When Hitler was voted into power
He scraped in (voting was a shambles),
But he knew it had come, this was his hour,
And so he took one of his biggest gambles.
He knew his grip on power was paper thin
And so decided he would take a flier;
He gambled everything that he would win,
So struck a match and lit the Reichstag fire.
He blamed it squarely on the other side,
The ostensible excuse he needed.
He silenced everyone who said he lied:
Head gardener in a garden that he seeded
With such a rank and rotten infestation
It killed, corrupted and destroyed a nation.
Written: October 19, 2023
Poem in the Fragmented Form Created by Poetess: Constance la France
The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design. By Harry Crews
_______________________________________
Love's blades tear within as a dull scalpel with teeth
Leaving merely a crushed, dead chunk of flesh
It shreds, gouges, and weeps till the heart bequeaths
Offering its heart gambles will be accepted fresh,
Being hugged frowns as it gulps the vile reality
The dagger sinks further, piercing the frailty of sanity
A heart still bleeds while succumbing to sociality
Pathetic, petrous parcel with pebbly peaks
Jagged-toothed dome rising into bespeaks,
Each is engraved, erose, and has surface breaks.
Swallowed by a murky quagmire of an abyss beneath,
Snapping at heels all life, laden with vessel mensch,
Unfathomable evil clings to grief and jagged vitality
Vow to thrive with every word your soul speaks.
"Blow on the dice and let them roll,"
says those who trust their lives to chance.
Allow cruel fate to take control.
"Blow on the dice and let them roll,"
The words of destiny cajole.
Kismet gambles on circumstance.
"Blow on the dice and let them roll,"
says those who trust their lives to chance.
January 8, 2023
Trippy hippie likes risky frisky.
Doing gambles of one's living.
I just want to f*cking die.
Hell would be better tonight.
As this devil gambles with my life
Disguising itself as a saint.
My talent fades away
Into the horizon, bleeding me dry.
Yet still I burn,
Still I burn tonight.
[Away In A Manger - revisited]
Where Dave is the ranger
And Tom is the mayor
The saloon is open
And Milt gambles there
On high in the night sky
A star ’bove the church
The beacon of Soup Creek
To aid in the search
An old passing stranger
Had let it be heard
That a babe would be found
And his name was the word
Now, Mark was the sheriff
He closed the saloon
And Jenna, quite frankly
Wasn’t over the moon
She said find that baby
And find it real soon
My bar can’t be closed
While this night has a moon
In the church they found him
And o what a fright
That poor baby’s young face
Was smeared with Marmite
But Tom said Stand clear men
That God-awful pong
We thought was yeast extract…
It seems we were wrong
Morning is a bright looking florescent
that unfold splashes of sultriness;
thrilling luminosity blewing off saturnine
incessantly each day you awake
to greet your pallid-cream face.
It shoot in succulents embrace
flurrying optimism and illusory hope
as fiery as your desires
just enough for a blade
to slash through depression
with unassailable sense.
Whilst to others
it's a suicide ice
& huge spectre
that will ruin
the gambles of their nights.
Old Man Biden
Dat old Joe Biden
He must know somethin
But seems like nothin
But he keeps rollin
He Keeps on rollin along
Old man Biden
dat old man Biden
While country’s slidin
He stays in hidin
He keeps on stumbling
He keeps on bumbling along
His best advice is
To find a crisis
Like climate change or
Some ‘viralitis’
With this malarkey
Then his autarchy goes on
You may work hard
With sweat and strain
Then make a little money
And you get the blame
But stay at home
In feckless glee
Or walk across the border
Get it all for free
When he starts speakin
Your brain starts freakin
Mind in absentia
Could it be dementia
We took our gambles
Now he just rambles along
Be he impeached
Or he be beseeched
To vacate his space
Look what takes his place!
So let old gone Joe
Let Old Sleepy Joe
Just keep on rollin along
Reproduction is oocyting.
With beingness what it is.
From eggs we all develop
as does everything that lives.
500 cardinal gambles tendered
for congress milt to meet, before
fecund moons by periods ended.
From family we are decended
but from eggs we all are rendered
(inspired by “We all are eggs” by poet BLT)
*** a woman is born with 500 eggs*
From fortunes
You may jump into misfortunes
With uncontrollable greeds that
Intervene at the gambling tables
Once you win, you'll eager for more
Until you lose
All your fortunes
As luck is not always
On your sides
Sometimes it betrays
Just like man betrays his god
I spilled my seventh cup of coffee
While shuffling through the papers on my desk.
It was a ham and cheese performance,
A little bit of business-like burlesque.
I sort through tax returns and spreadsheets,
Deciding what to shred and what to keep.
The numbers flatten my perception.
It’s hard to tell the shallow from the deep.
The market parodies the weather,
It’s sometimes paradise, and sometimes hell.
It takes a fortune teller’s insight
To know which stocks to buy and which to sell.
I go to trade shows and conventions
To bust my hump establishing rapport.
To get that sweet insider cherry,
I give good face and put out like a whore.
But it’s so sweet insider cherry,
Just so sweet insider cherry
Can provide me with an edge.
When investing in the future,
Need to guarantee the future with an edge.
That’s my pledge.
I take fiduciary gambles
To profit from a fickle fiscal year,
And plot inventive navigation
To dodge the rocks and shoals that interfere
With my relentless and creative
Chicanery within the corporate sphere.
I keep a second set of ledgers
That chronicle my cynical career.
Of God beauty
To paint with the color of the leaves
Profound passion that does not deceive
Breath in who spoke
Allowing the paintbrush to do its stroke
Passion of the heart was told
To never allow yourself to be sold
God loves our zeal
All layers of our hearts are sealed
Watch his story unfold
As it shall be told
Forgiveness of the world gambles
As God people we shall assemble
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