Running circles in my mind,
Peace not too far behind,
As the gears grind down,
Thoughts stir around.
I found a new design,
It's min to refine,
I am Divine,
It's time to shine.
Realign this reality,
To the way I wish it to be,
Humanity living peacefully,
Abundantly receiving,
What they need for Believing.
I wonder where, oh boulders and sand,
Your spirit or heart truly stands.
To you, of Stone with worn heart in your chest
Surly you were once like the rest.
Once A boulder perfect and formed,
From the day you fell from mountain top, born.
Down the slope you came and lay,
To rest near a peaceful lake one day.
And there you stood from boulder to stone,
A little smaller in your new home.
You peacefully lie until one day you find,
The rain had swept you toward the tide.
Rubble and tumble you find yourself, Stone
Bottom of the bank, and all alone.
Once a boulder, now grind down,
Washed back to the sandy beaches around.
On a mountain top once you stood,
Stone now turned to sand did the best he could.
But grain so small, hold your head high,
Within your chest your heart always lies.
Doesn't money feel like slavery,
Delegating where you need to be.
Acquiring desires that are temporary,
Keeping you distracted so you can't see,
Because it's needed to feed the family.
As taxes accumulate rampantly,
The Rich ask the Poor for charity.
As they're selling life by the hour,
Devouring all our precious power.
Waiting to bloom like a flower,
Hour by hour Lives grind down.
Payday is owed to the town,
So there's never enough around.
The sound of new trends come around,
Throwing whats left to the ground.
Enjoying the new trend they found,
Cries of hunger all around.
Not a care in the world,
As they move toward alone.
It's time to cut the chord,
Tying us to money.
So we can see,
The power is in harmony.
Money was a fallacy,
Only gaining what was temporary.
Doing anything necessary just to carry,
Taking the power from you and me,
Stealing eternity,
You'll repeat it till you see.
The politicians and globalists plopped us in a teacup.
Feeding us the sugary crumbs of their lies.
Stuffing us teabags below the boiling waterline.
Keep banging your tambourine, blue-haired boy.
Smoking that sweet government dope.
They want you soapy brained to keep you on the rope.
Wear your hippie T-shirts; nobody is looking or listening.
War is a metal monkey-swinging from a money tree.
War is a lemon squeezed from the misery of the masses.
The machine is built to grind down our peace mountain.
It is fueled by a never-ending supply of greed and sorrow.
Someday the cup will blister and crack.
The masses will spill out to eat the marrow of their misery.
Drinking the blood of the giver of crumbs and sorrow.
THE FATE OF FUTURE
A romp of childhood, descending my steep driveway, to the bus.
My urgent path lit dimly, filled with compacted snow, shoveled
with steel blades. I wearing a woolen coat, always late.
Still on time, before great big wheels grind down a country road.
Youth, with hair still damp, long and fine, shyness hides inside.
Tired teens, all around me, I watch the wipers swipe morning flurries.
The repetitive motion, bestowing comfort, like a lullaby -
before the din of crowded classrooms and impertinent teachers.
My math teacher, with a schnoz that crests Everest,
an informer of intelligent students. Less inclined
to teach her fearful ones, to shame us with a shun.
A glare of eagle spectacles, nearly scorning our dark plight.
Yet, classrooms with nouns, adjectives, verbs spur me on
to serendipitous highs. I fly with Kilmer, dip with Plath.
I lean forward as psychology and sociology take me by the arms.
I feel the fate of future, the lovely breeze has dried my hair, sublime.
9/5/2017
Non Rhyming couplets
Love had no part in my life as a kid,
If it did then it kept itself well hid.
For years and years I longed for it to show,
If there was a God , He must have said no.
Then through all my army days I felt,
So alone as in the church where I knelt.
It never happened as far as I could see,
If love was around , it would pass by me.
Until one day at a friends, a door opened,
A face appeared for but a fleeting second.
Hi , I'm Fran she said, and I'm in a hurry,
She needed to change so off she did scurry.
I felt my heart leap, high in my breast,
This woman I saw had so much zest.
I swear, in my mind I heard my heart say,
This is the woman I will marry some day.
To her I became obsessed, a persistent pest,
She said, I don't need a man so give it a rest.
My mind told me that this would always be so,
Yet my heart also told me, no, never let go.
It took many more weeks for her to come round
Her unwillingness I began to slowly grind down,
Until that day to my sheer delight,
She said,OK, OK, I love you , alright !
For 46 years we have been bound by love,
That special bond made by our Father above.
© Dave Timperley 11 August 2016
When I say:
I will fight to the death for you,
it means
I will spew flames at those who dare
lift a hand and bruise your soul.
I will grind down to ash the person
that ever makes you feel small, or less than.
I will break the bones of those
who think your body is only theirs
to do what they want with.
I will shoo away the ghosts
that attempt to haunt you
in your darkest hour.
I will cradle you, as I did
when you once smelled of baby powder,
when your heart breaks from
first love,
first loss,
first pain
from those awful things you can't comprehend.
I will be your anchor,
when everything is flailing
and the wind is overpowering
and the storm is threatening to drown you.
Come back to me,
always.
Because when I say:
I will fight to the death for you,
it means
I will light the world on fire for you
even if I get
burned along the way.
In cold words of spite, shoot me down,
Let hate grind down the heart to dust
The dust to fuel the icy frown,
But frowns can smile when truth they trust.
I’m caught in the bitter cross-fire,
Bullets fired in to cause her pain,
In pain, I can walk the high wire,
High tension wire where words lay slain.
Gutless, using me to get ‘She’,
‘She’, perceived threat to the male,
A male so weak he shoots at me,
And me, they won’t make me fail!
So waste dear words, it changes naught,
From naught everything is grown,
In learning grows the strength I sought,
And dreams I sought to be my own.
Form: Wreathed Quatrains
Life is so cold;
Whispered words like teeth,
That grind down on bits of soul
Do not want to know what tomorrow will hold
No more tomorrows to add to yesterdays
Stop the movement,
Muffle the voice
Strangle the child before he can kill
End it all, it’s not worth its mettle
None shall have to suffer from pain
Give in to temptations and walk into death
Lie on the black bed and dream with the storm
All shall morn and none shall live
Pillage in the streets and burn out their eyes
These silver kisses of venom sweet
Temptation, frustration, desecration- come forth!
Is it worth the loss?
The rot, do not cross
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