when I open the front door on a crisp morning and the warm sun soaks itself into my clothes and the doorway behind me; the feeling of undoing my hair after a long grueling shift; the feeling of pulling soft laundry out of the dryer; the feeling of laying down in a clean bed after a hearty meal; all the things' people find comfort in I find myself looking for you. you are my comfort. I like it here where its comfortable. I want to stay here where its comfortable.
The daunting mountain in tough terrain of life,
needs to be climbed as the summit calls,
follow the undefined trail in the storm of strife.
Cross with devotion the gateways God installs,
repose in His prescribed ordain steadfast trust,
faith will show the path in dark nights of squalls.
The rough sea of stormy life in grueling gust,
needs to be sailed serene, the last anchorage found,
guided by His beacon with devotion just.
The dark alleys of agony profound,
need to be lighted, lost life recouped from abyss,
God’s grace in regained essence will then abound.
The journey on prayer hymn isn’t amiss,
it takes life through soul’s stillness to the bay of bliss.
Choice is a void,
fear of the unknown is a delicacy we can't afford,
regret, a high profile plug,
Loved ones, our own asphyxiation, slow grueling, and cold. Cruel.
Still they are our duty(to break, then bury and afterwards even about whom brag.)
If you don't believe me just wait and watch and in all honesty my only hope is that someday i will be wrong.
Someday I will be wrong.
They line the streets
In a shanty confined
The cemented floor
A cold refuge
Embracing disgusted busts of energy
Lost in the wilds
A strange world
The Privileged ones…
What can they do
To assuage this continuing distress
About 1.7 billion
Held hostage in
This grueling tunnel
Manifest in varied dimensions
They lack voice
Human dignity violated
Insecure exclusion of individuals
Habituated in marginal environments
Astronomical cost of living
Must be apprehended
Cities and states must be
Built on God’s foundation
Harbingers to this state are:
Scarce basic needs
Unwilling governments
No economic freedom
Weak rule of law
Bureaucratic burdens
Lack of industralisation
Ailing financial services
Contaminated tendencies
WATAMALA
Summer wind is blowing through me
telling of the season’s coming,
whirlwinds of heat and fire will be
spreading through the forests slumming.
Like the rodents running mazes
summer wind is blowing through me,
suddenly its heat amazes,
wails destruction like a banshee.
Away with torment this I plea,
wither it with gentle breezes~
summer wind is blowing through me
nothing in its presence pleases.
Hurry now the autumn’s cooling
or bathe me in the deep blue sea,
I am weary of this grueling,
summer wind is blowing through me
Day to remember those who served
Vietnam, Korea, Middle East
Our gratitude is well deserved
By all who live and those deceased
Remember tours, hiding fear
Vile ambushes in plain sight
Them backs recall the tons of gear
Extraction with the heli flight
The ruthless sun and blowing sand
All in day's work where work is war
Reproaching looks in foreign land
And guarded sleep on earthen floor
Live chats while missing kids and wife
Oh, silly troubles way back home
A soldier, living grueling life
While facing combat stress syndrome
It stays with you, forever more
Long after battles go away
Our guys and girls, they are postwar
Salute our Vets on their day
November 11, 2025
The grueling skies are darkened now
as heavy clouds clutch barren ground
through thickened fog there lies a bog
a silent menace, foreboding grog.
Yet now, against my wiser will
I slog, to view the slimy pit
that locks the suffocating water tight
no ripples flow, no fresh respite.
A strange attraction draws me in
to meld within this cursed lip of spite
it carries me down and out of sight
to solemn end, to depth of night.
the grueling walk
home
after another
loss
lasts longer
stings more
swells
with tears
when
you are
a boy
Beyond this race of aches and pain
Looms large the struggle to make the grade,
And yet the mental and physical strain
Finds me now and forever unafraid
It matters not the starting gate,
The grueling race will take its toll,
But I’m a marathoner great
I’ll master all to reach my goal
You Make Me Smile
the diagnosis came as a shock
life altering-all came to a stop
several surgical scar forming resections
steady course of skin burning radiation
multiple courses of poisonous chemotherapy
grueling grind of gut-wrenching nausea
valleys of deep depression
alternate with hills of happiness
each day another day of life
totally different than the day before
through it all you have
managed to maintain your
sharp wit and sly humor
I am truly amazed that
despite the desperate circumstances
you can make me smile
To be a burden means to not use the tools strewn about.
The rusty trowel and bucket filled with half-thoughts.
Be a burden.
Your words are just wailing and buzzing at us.
I can be a burden.
I can dig little holes all around the sand.
I can bury little toy soldiers.
But under the sand means nothing.
It just gets footprints, and litter, and walking over and over.
So what we bury will creep back.
We can be burdens.
Throw away our shovels, rakes, and nails.
Let them be as scrambled as we were.
As they pick up the resources scattered about.
There’s no such thing as support.
Nothing real.
Digging new holes everywhere.
But I can never bury any thought or idea.
Just scraps of my eternity.
I can be a real burden sometimes.
In this exacting and grueling way.
We can be real burdens some days.
I drove my car to the beach one summer day.
Wondering what the waves wanted this time.
Tonight, I won’t write anything at all…
I’m throwing in my quill,—who am I fooling?—
I’m throwing in my keyboard, overruling
my instinct for seriousness,—o how small
and earnestly banal…/I mean!, the gall
of an Artiste not sat at home drooling
on their craft and crafting another grueling
chef-d’œuvre,—Bah!—leave that to the alcohol!—
—@-tack your ’s-periment__’n’|defend|
mine own: for the[object]of this{subject}
is Anihilating your nothingness.
Yea! all this—and (, verily,) nothingless.
Avoid a void?,your void—I“[-VOID-]”| perfect
disdain,—no mask upon it to append.
The roar of the crowd, a deafening sound,
As helmets collide on hallowed ground.
But whispers arise, a cynical plea,
"Is victory real, or just make-believe?"
Like headlines that spin, a truth half-concealed,
Or storylines scripted, emotions revealed,
The gridiron's drama, some claim it's a show,
A pre-ordained dance, where the winners all know.
The quarterback's pass, a perfectly flighted arc,
Or a fumble recovered, leaving its mark.
Are these moments genuine, raw and untamed,
Or puppets on strings, in a carefully planned game?
The news it may bend, to an agenda's sway,
And wrestlers perform, their roles they portray.
But the sweat and the tears, the grueling long grind,
For athletes who strive, a different truth you'll find.
Though doubts may persist, and shadows remain,
The passion they bring, can't be purely feigned.
For the love of the game, in hearts burning bright,
Ignites the true spirit, and fuels the good fight.
For the blessed fruits of the blessed tree of life’s being,
Persecution and crucifixion have their time in life’s seasons;
Their demise coming with seasons of resurrection and ascension:-
Seasoning of life from Genesis to Revelations, has its time;
Let us ever be mindful that we’re fruits of God’s balboa tree of life,
With a quartet of years to sow and cultivate our seeds of justice:-
Thus, it’s time to get plowing and uprooting unjust seeds
Sown in the God given riverside just soil of His trees;
Indeed, as faithful garden balboa trees of God given life,
May we be in the blooming of ripe fruits His coming justice:-
May our plow sheds be ever fully stocked with tools of courage
And faithful determination, cultivating us with God sent liberation:-
And while trials and tribulations may endure for grueling nights,
Let us be bearers of fruitful mornings;
Indeed, let us be as the fruiting sun in joyous dawning liberation,
And let bigotry be as a waning moon:-
Somewhere in a rugged sunny terrain
a bushy-maned pony kicks up his heels
amid biting flies in a grueling summer heat.
An elegant cattle egret hitches a ride.
Devouring grassland insects, his daily diet,
the egret helps his buddy in his plight
keeping the flies at bay while loping along
together through brush and grass and sage.
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