They say that after the storm
there always comes a rainbow
but to the one who mourns
that's an insincere blow
Perhaps instead of a silver lining
You can look back later and see
the benefit of the timing
and gain peace and clarity
Had it not happened a certain way
or taken a hard left from my plan
I wouldn't be where I am today
and my current reality is truly grand
It was never easy
I was broken and emotional
A few years wiser, now I see
It had to be intentional
When joy was all but forgotten
Through the pain and long hard days
the good thing about rock bottom,
is nobody ever stays
It feels forced for a while
exhausting to get up
then you catch yourself smile
healing's one not to interrupt
So my friend, if you are low
please accept this bit of advice
I won't try to sell you some rainbow
but your efforts will suffice
It takes time to climb to the very top
Then it falls straight down and you gasp for air
Your eyes roll back and you pray it won't stop
It turns hard left mashing you in the chair
Your heart skips a beat as it turns back right
Then it starts a climb, your air's gone again
Your heart won't settle and your bladder's tight
As it turns back left and faces the wind
One minute you want to stop and just quit
Then the next minute you want more and more
You cannot tell if you are sick or fit
The one thing for sure it's never a bore
You know when it's over and when it's not
And most of the time you hope it won't end
You learn what it's missing and what it's got
Then buy a ticket and ride it again
11-8-19
Contest: Metaphor of Love
Sponsor: Bobby May
I'm just an average guy,
living a ho-hum life
Everything is going good,
everything's alright
Met this girl,
and I took a hard left turn
Has my daddy confused,
got my mamma concerned
This girl is a wild thing,
she'll let you know
if the wheels are turning too slow
Kick it up another gear, she tells me
Got to conquer your fear,
so you can live free
Ride the hurricane breeze ...
said this sexy Valkyrie
Sit inside the tornado,
where it's as calm as can be
So when I shoulda went right,
I decided to go left
Was cruising with a bag of ganja,
blowing the Maryjane breath
Started seeing flashing lights,
blue smurfs breaking my mellow
Was handed a couple of tickets
to a late-night cop reality show
My girl got out of jail free,
her card said she was a paid informant
I, on the other hand,
had to deal with incarcerated torment
Spent three days in hell,
with a lost weekend to boot
And my girl has moved on as well;
said I was a plain tuba,
she was looking for a magic flute
Here's the lesson learned:
three left turns will send you the right way
Welcome to the city of whores
no need to know my name I'll be your tour
guide
Follow me as we stroll down Cocaine
Boulevard where they live life so care free
sex, drugs, murder, the daily routine
Make a sharp left on SlutVille Road where
prostitutes salute the almighty dollar
another hard left now we're on Addict
Street where addicts get high to mask
their pain
This city only has left turns no right turns
no hope insight
but anyway lets pay a visit to the whores
of whores corrupt
politicians slimy city officials making
profits off the plight of the people
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher
aka The Green Poet
Welcome to the city of whores no need to
know my name I'll be your tour guide
Follow me as we stroll down Cocaine
Boulevard where they live life so care free
sex, drugs, murder, the daily routine
Make a sharp left on SlutVille Road where
prostitutes salute the almighty dollar
another hard left now we're on Addict
Street where addicts get high to mask
their pain this city only has left turns no
right turns no hope in sight
But anyway lets pay a visit to the whores
of whores corrupt politicians slimy city
officials making profits off the plight of the
people
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The
Brown Philosopher aka The Green Poet
aka Red Seven
Sail most by north, by west the least,
until the moon sets in the east.
There, in a sea the colour of custard,
ye'll see the Ile de Deux Sans Mustard
where locals speak like buccaneers,
calling you ‘me dirrr' and us ‘me dirrrrs'.
Their pirate accent's quite inexorable
though, than ours, their grammar more is flexible.
They appear to verge on being mammalian,
a little bit like South Australians
(I'd never for the sake of mirth
deride the folks who come from Perth).
Hard left, first manatee you see,
or right, your choice, you're free as me
(it's nix to do with politics,
a pox on all elected plicks).
Sail till the sea turns sweetest violet
and there you'll spot the cutest islet
(had we to rhyme with ‘sweetest red'
it'd be a continent instead).
Here, when poetry is long dismembered,
lies the place of rhyme remembered.
Yes, you have come upon a land
that any poet would think is grand,
where almost everybody aint
any kind of ffffflamin' saint,
but seldom use the worst of curses,
when they converse in freeish verses,
or communicate in playful rhyme,
pretty much whenever they feel like it.
Sure took me a while
To realize that promises won’t grow
Ways to only know how
How everyone is promised a lonely soul
It wasn’t until I knew
I know but did not realize
At least not till its real
The moment when love dies
And its hard to go on... alone
Is it really better like everyone says?
Just the other day I was walking home
To only seem like never days
Perhaps irrelevant to think so
Perhaps irrelevant to burden love
Years bearing to only hold
When a broken promise becomes but a sentence serve
A while more, just a while
Knowing before I realize too soon
Love to only know how
A promise comes from a broken wound
Poem inspired with the song "Hard Left by Robin Hackett"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoRlCInxNIs
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