“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.” ~ Blaise Pascal
How does your decision process work,
extracting clarity and a course of action from the murk?
I'm sure that, for you, it works out fine,
insofar as your methodology is different from mine.
I begin by pondering my choices,
but find inside my head there are two voices.
I scratch my head, and begin to reflect,
asking myself which is most morally correct.
When all is said and done,
which hurts others least, and which is best for number one?
What is the reward? What risk would be incurred?
What is the probability of the result that is preferred?
I make a list of cons and pros,
and assign weights to each of those,
and after hours, days, and weeks of pondering,
I'm still at a loss to solve my "quandering".
Then, I instantly do what I knew I'd do all along,
and find that my decision was all wrong.
A child, when you first painfully surmised,
that love is something to be won or lost,
the victim of a winning player's lies,
when early on your youthful heart was crossed.
So, like many aspiring men before,
it would be your inevitable fate
in life and love, to try to pry a door,
by learning to scheme and manipulate.
Yet, strangely, the conquests you have enjoyed,
with each bittersweet passing victory,
are experiences empty and void.
The winner isn't really you, you see -
as, you've lost yourself, and incurred the cost,
in living, loving, with your fingers crossed.
Locked as deep away
What's yet glassed each day
Thought-secure and thought-serene
For world, sense- blurred.
Too grim overcast.
Or blows up too fast.
For a weather-type, down there
What all have incurred.
flimflam Freddy, Frankenville’s only funeral director
actively sought out numbskulls, dimwits and nitwits
an expert in cajoling them into signing contracts
assuring them that their funerals would be exquisite
he verbally mentioned doves, orchestra, and magic shows
none of this was in the contract they signed
a contract that guaranteed nothing
a contract that assured him of unbelievable amounts of money
funerals that cost others six thousand,
cost these nimb-nuts twenty thousand
in teeny tiny print it mentioned that additional expenses might be incurred
and they were
Follow you in my mind it’s true
Concentration makes me blue
Always am I chained to regret
The loss of your beauty
An uncertain depth
I play in my mind a doll of you
Hug and squeeze like little girls do
And when I can see the unbleared world
The loss I incurred is echoed and heard
My stillness does wrath unseen
My dream a nightmare I moan and scream
My heart beats I feel in each a death
Like waking to find myself unblessed
Living the definition of obsessed
Seeking a way to revive this death
Gone, gone, gone says time
The never again has committed it’s crime
Emotion does torture the willing mind
What I do to myself is so unkind
Some events throughout our lives
Have consequences that
Reverberate for years and years,
No matter where we’re at.
A childhood trauma or a jab
That cut us to the quick,
Emotional or physical;
A hurt that seemed to stick.
Or else an injury incurred
To leave a lasting scar
Or the remnants of an illness
Which hangs on in ways bizarre.
There’s not way to know just what
Will have a permanent effect
And at times we may react to what
We never would suspect.
The only thing that we can do
When looking to the past
Is to realize we are stuck for good
With what the die has cast.
Follow you in my mind it's true
Concentration makes me blue
Always am i chained to regret
The loss of your beauty
An uncertain depth
I play in my mind a doll of you
Hug and squeeze like little girls do
And when I can see the unbleared world
The loss I incurred is echoed and heard
My stillness does wrath unseen
My dream a nightmare I moan and scream
My heart beats I feelin each a death
Like waking to find myself unblessed
Living the definition of obsessed
Seeking away to revive this death
Gone, gone, gone says time
The never again has committed it's crime
Emotion does torture the willing mind
What I do to myself is so unkind
All the people honored him.
He was universally revered.
Is his life now growing dim
with blows he has incurred,
or was he just a legend,
evading every sleuth,
the hero that would never bend,
this fellow they call Truth.
Within my joy there is no hidden sorrow
No sense in mixing opposites I see
Don’t want to rediscover gone tomorrows
I’m superficial, from the signs of depth I flee
Knowing that troubles could be easily incurred
In magic of the nature I’m involved
It saves my time, and helps me to endure
The anxieties of this deceptive world
To swim beyond the buoys is not for me
When splashes of the tide awash this land
I’m there with my wine to watch the sea
It writes away some wave marks in the sand.
In the wake of their words, my spirit wanes,
Struggling to break free from their chains.
Their doubts and disdain, a heavy toll,
Leaving scars on my wounded soul.
If only they knew the impact they had,
Their critique cutting deeper than sad.
My confidence shaken, my dreams deferred,
By those whose judgment I've incurred.
Their dismissal of my efforts, my strife,
Leaves a bitter taste in this journey of life.
Now burdened with doubt, a weight I bear,
A heavy price for their lack of care.
Their words have marred my view of self,
Leaving me trapped in doubt and stealth.
So before you speak, consider the cost,
Is your way worth wounding a soul?
Mirror
mirror
on the wall,
the pre decided fairest of all
When I utter fiancé ,
Did you see all kinds of fees incurred?
When I utter Feodor
Fees and beyond?
And a lightyear and a “buraq”
With fifty turned five…
Did you witness Mosay bargained for you only
Never cared for me there
For a malar rash try?
So, black heads remover, do not be nosey
Happen in the adjacent vicinity
A science fair and phonetic verona
No black hole entry...
Too much in a day for a simple queue
For failed process of elimination (POE)
In an idiom try.
Even though whittled down, nothing more than a noise walls
For a city control (ctrl).
et·y·mo·log·i·cal
[?ed?m?'läj?k?l]
adjective
relating to the origin and historical development of words and their meanings:
"an etymological dictionary" · "the etymological roots of the word are of interest."
I earned a name quite a few years ago.
The name is Adam Barha.
I do not even know if that has incurred a spelling mistake or not.
But it is truly the noun, proper enough, not the adjective.
9:34 AM
Sunday, January 14, 2024
et·y·mo·log·i·cal
adjective
relating to the origin and historical development of words and their meanings:
"an etymological dictionary" · "the etymological roots of the word are of interest."
I earned a name quite a few years ago.
The name is Adam Barha.
I do not even know if that has incurred a spelling mistake or not.
But it is truly the noun, proper enough, not the adjective.
9:34 AM
Sunday, January 14, 2024
“Each thing we keep- we lean on like a friend;
engaged or not- our need for it, defend.”
_by Poet
Keep- what huge decisions stir that word-
a process that the mind must face each day.
All through the years, this word often incurred
a mess of what we should have thrown away.
With good intentions- cleaning out we start.
We pick up this and that- then comes that stare,
as memories of it stir up the heart-
and that word, “keep,” fast grabs it in a snare.
So, back the item goes- like times before,
and guilt of getting rid of it dissolves;
where it will stay as something we adore-
forgotten till next clean-out day evolves.
Ah, yes, that “keep” has power mighty strong,
and on a huge scale- can fill every space;
where split decisions, made with heart, prolong-
that peace- where order, tidiness, embrace.
Follow you in my mind it’s true
Concentration makes me blue
Always am I chained to regret
The loss of your beauty
An uncertain depth
I play in my mind a doll of you
Hug and squeeze like little girls do
And when I can see the unbleard world
The loss I incurred is echoed and heard
My stillness does wrath unseen
My dream a nightmare I moan and scream
My heart beats I feel in each a death
Like waking to find myself unblessed
Living the definition of obsessed
Seeking a way to revive this death
Gone, gone, gone says time
The never again has committed it’s crime
Emotion does torture the willing mind
What I do to myself is so unkind
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