If your choice is to climb the higher hill
You’ll need more supplies and a stronger will
For as you climb supplies will diminish
And some will be needed when you finish
If you’re looking for fun and a small thrill
You’ll find it better to choose a small hill
Choose one you can top in just a short span
With several trails up you won’t need a plan
Remember to stop if you need a rest
It isn’t a race and sure not a test
Also remember to take you a snack
Or you will get hungry when you start back
For those that went higher you paid your due
You topped the high hill you get the best view
The world shows us one thing,
but behind it, something darker lives.
We’re told stories shaped by power,
not truth.
They write history to fit their plans.
They call it help,
but it's control.
Rich men send poor men to die
in wars over land, oil, and power.
And we believe it's for freedom.
Every minute, a man takes his own life.
Every day.
But where’s the movement for him?
We talk about equality,
but some voices are left out.
They build us up just to knock us down
puppets for their games.
We’re fed lies through screens,
taught what to think,
kept asleep while they move in silence.
Some get the best schools.
Others are born just to work and serve.
Kings stay kings because
they’ve locked our minds in cages.
Old cities are being uncovered,
but we’re told nothing.
Technology exists that could change the world
but we only see it decades later.
They’ve built pyramids we still can’t explain.
Billionaires fly to space,
but we don’t even understand our own oceans.
The world is broken.
The truth is buried.
But some of us are waking up.
And we know:
something is coming.
They're smiling leniently don’t be silly
You can’t be apolitical these days
I’m smiling back I don’t trust them initially,
It doesn’t fall under a criminal offence
I’m fascinated by the incongruous lines
Just look at those familiar shapes, distorted
The early cubist paintings make them shine
Not blindingly, but just how you would want it
Ambiguous light of green and brown hues
Strict and fastidious lines, this is my politics
No one’s deprived, humiliated or abused
You’re in your favorite chair watching pics
It’s a spiritual job, not quite a passive leisure
Those pictures move in time can’t stay the same
They grow on you without any measure
Until your mind will get the best of frame
You hang out in the school of old escapers
The shooters cannot see us with their drone
Tomorrows ash deploy yesterdays papers
Don’t ask of yesterdays old girls – all gone.
Hire the Hood 1
I know you want to hire the hood.
To give them work, like you said you would.
To lift them up, and make life good,
To see success spread through the neighborhood.
But hire those with drive and skill,
With passion, purpose, and iron will.
People who can play their part,
With sharp minds and loyal hearts.
They must align with what you do,
Share the vision and see it through.
Because business needs more than love alone,
It takes talent, and smart moves to build your throne.
If you hire the hood, or not, get the best—do it right,
Choose the ones who bring the fight and the light.
Help each other grow, help each other thrive.
That’s how you keep the dream alive.
It’s always good to give people a chance
But, it takes the right people to make your job enhance.
The same time you’re giving people equality
Make sure your getting people who can put out good quality.
Moving forward,
Space so vast,
Time is accessible to the past,
After a lifetime has passed.
Lessons and memories last,
Casting an imprint to find,
As you travel the mind.
Energy was designed,
To be evolved, refined.
As the memories remind you,
A door opens to climb through.
A life brand new,
Just like you were used to.
Right where you left you,
From the Future to the past,
To get it right at last.
Contrast and duality,
Are the lessons I see.
Frustrated, getting angry,
I won't let it get the best of me.
My entity is energy,
Traveling eternity,
The future is just possibility.
The NOW creating memories,
A point in time you can see,
When leaving physicality.
Re entering as a baby,
Refining your reality.
Take those two away and all you have is me
A stranger to all
A victim to some
A worthless cause
No growth in mind
It's an endorsement to failure
There is an anchor in my life
But it is not her
It's the battle with in me
The war for comfort in my own skin
The battle still wages on
The only casualty seems to be me
I've been dead inside for so long
The tombstone reads always an end never a beginning
An epic fail from the start
These emotions always get the best of me
But it's a direct cause for the worst in me
An endless cycle
Round and round the world goes
But it has always been stopped in the 1990s and before for me
So why do I continue to stand
It's those two my whole world with in my world
The reason why my life has meaning
The place I tend to fall to
The foundation I helped build
The evolution of me with in the eyes of those two
My babies.
In my deepest melancholic mood,
when my appetite ceases for food.
When I can hardly get an hour's sleep.
When I'm tempted for nothing to weep.
When I can scarcely retain a smile.
When happiness goes a distant mile
away from my world of emotions.
I veer off from my own commotions,
when I journey through my own feelings
to get the best of inner healings.
Positive conquest takes center stage
as it defuses my inner rage.
I am renewed with positive thoughts
as my inner melancholy rots.
I simply relive my happiest days,
as my memory the good times replays.
I think of my friends and family,
and the good times we spent happily.
I retain my uplifting memories
which I penned down in Emory's diaries.
Oh mighty mistral winds
Fill my sails and take me home
This voyage never ends
Over countless seas I roam
On this ship I'm but a slave
Still I struggle and I try
I fight each giant wave
As it blackens out the sky
The unrelenting sea
Pitches wildly to and fro
It won't get the best of me
No matter where I go
If these mistral winds prevail
Then no peril can befall
Till it carries ship and sail
To my final port of call
Chitter chatter bitter batter
I am trying to think
Chitter Chatter
Can I eat with you?
I turn and growl.
They leave quickly.
Chitter chatter bitter batter
Same story as yesterday and the day before
Chitter chatter bitter batter
Principal who is my boss comes in
Asks me to pick up Felon Number 6.
Have a talk, make them feel safe.
Chitter chatter.bitter batter as I walk past teacher's lunchroom
Which happens to be on the other side of the wall of my office
Felon Number 6 and I throw balls around.
We build a house. I learn everything about his family.
Chitter chatter is not as noticeable now
As I concentrate on him.
Walk him back but he runs away from me.
As usual.
I catch up to make sure he ended up in his room.
Lunch duty now. Two hundred kids and two adults.
Not fun. No one can open their milk.
No one remembers silverware.
Everyone wants to get out of their seat to chase each other.
Kindergarteners get the best of me.
I am exhausted in a mere thirty minutes.
Go back to my office.
Sit down to concentrate.
Chitter chatter bitter batter
I hate sharing this dhramned wall.
My dog ears are screaming now.
No poetry today.
I met a girl
I met a girl who once was me who wandered far from Christ
I met a girl who once was me who didn't have time to pray.
I met a girl who once was me who didn't have time for anyone else.
I met a girl who once was me she was so busy doing everything else except to whisper a prayer or praise.
Yes, I met a girl who once was me who tried to get the best of everything in life.
I met a girl who once was me, she was distressed and full of self.
I met a girl who once was me who reminded me of myself.
Yes, I met a girl who once was me and we came face to face one day.
I met a girl who once was me, and she was so empty inside.
I met a girl who once was me and I could not leave her in the same place.
Yes, I met a girl who once was me and was able to point her to the Savior's grace.
I met a girl who once was me now we are standing side by side save and standing in Christ.
Oh what do I see?
Symmetry on my tree
Ornaments get the best of me
Do you think this is OCD?
A wise old man
standing up there,
on the cliffs, thinking
about all his life and mistakes.
Everything he did wrong,
everything he did right.
A sad and honorable man,
feeling blue, wanted to jump
to the dark and cold
waters to disappear forever into the ocean.
I couldn't understand why.
I could not understand
what the problem was with him.
I managed to take him to a tabern.
We had some drink and we talked a lot.
This man was a honorable teacher,
teaching from wrong to right.
His wife squeezed him
to get the best juice from him.
His daughters were abducted by an evil mum,
while he had no chance.
He was standing up on the cliffs,
watching the waves, watching the cold sea,
ready to jump.
I told him to come with me,
I told him, I will be all ears for him to be listened to.
An old teacher, an old man
taught me a lesson.
A young teacher told him another lesson.
We all have to learn, from old and young people.
By the way, he didn't jump in the end.
Now we are friends,
we talk a lot on the cliffs,
watching the sea in its mood.
We have our way.
Gathering, waiting
As dusk settles near,
Patiently anticipating
To watch and to hear
The first shooting spark
To utter a boom,
And fill up the dark
With a crackling bloom
Familiar faces angled
To get the best view,
Of a sky spangled
With red, white and blue
Joined by the fireflies
And their show of light,
'Til the last firework dies
On one July night.
I am a young female warrior,
Fighting a battle unseen
Multiple sclerosis is my foe,
But I won't let it get the best of me.
I may stumble, I may fall,
But I'll get up and keep on going
I'll face each day with courage and strength,
And keep my spirit glowing.
My body may be weak,
But my will is strong and true
I'll fight this fight with all I have,
And show MS what I can do.
I am not defined by my illness,
But by the fighter within
I'll overcome any obstacle,
And emerge stronger in the end.
So bring on the challenges,
For I am a warrior through and through
A young female with multiple sclerosis,
And I will never give up on you.
Growing the fruits of your labor in Socorro county
Around here they call it New Mexico true
Down in Lemitar you can get the best of the best
The warm days' and cool nights, the fields of green chile grew
This crop has become known worldwide in places afar
Dedicated day and night to it being a successful harvest
Long hours and true love of this way of life they embrace
The chile, beautiful and mature, it's the hot days' of August
Sacks of burlap full to the top begin the journey across the state
Crack of the burners, metal cylinders turn, roasted green chile fills the air
This smell, it is nothing short of heaven on earth
Our call to fame with a little New Mexico flare
The season is short, late Autumn wind blows the dust off a cowboys boots
The chile turns deep red now, the last of the season
The ground is bare as I take one last look across the land
The Zia on our flag gives me pride, that's my reason
Why things happen, well who's to say
Perhaps the fields will be green again someday
A hurt in my heart, I lower my Stetson and walk away
The fields belong to spirit now, looking in the distance I see the rain
Related Poems