she was tattooed, yet still beautiful
her green eyes were the eyes of a queen
she was not arrogant; she was regal
wearing bracelets bangles and spangles
others avoided her table at the psychic fair
I sauntered directly to her
when I got closer, I noted that she was classy
and more gorgeous than I had originally thought
If men attended psychic fairs, there would have been a line
these old, dumpy corpulent middle-aged women went other places
this was a queen with flowers in her hair
wearing pearls and gemstones
I felt I was in the presence of greatness
there was nothing arrogant or inflated about her
she had a soft voice and kind ways
I was enthralled, captured, and enchanted
yes, she certainly could do a reading for me
it was a fabulous thirty minutes
she is a woman I have never forgotten
Inflated egos heads are swollen
Deception rife our freedoms stolen
To insane masters our lives beholden
From within self love we must embolden
Create a truthful joyous life that's coloured golden
She’s desperately needing the loo
For urine or maybe a poo
But to pay a HUGE fee
Just to have a pee
Is something Michelle will not do!
She’s irate when she went to pee
They’re charging an inflated fee
One pound for a piss
This fee I'd dismiss ...
Wear Tena ladies like me!
Swept-up, an impulse
Followed I, last night, a foraging moonbeam --
Having entering my studio from a west facing
Window, looking out onto a frigid lake, hoarding light
And sparse warmth – winter was approaching
No sooner entered, now in hasty retreat
I thought, with all that extra glass
One mere gleam, such wasted inside opportunity!
------------------------------------------------------------
The moon, seeming full though often
Falsely round, as those inflated bellies of hungered children
Bloated with empty water to dissuade the pangs --
------------------------------------------------------------------
Crescent, I would argue, a far more sensitive display --
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The moon may rule our night
The sun may rule our day
My heart yet remains its own, to pass
Or follow thoughtfully every ambient
Ray --
These days once treasured
monuments are let
to weather away
or are bullied
and bulldozed to rubble.
Others have small cracks
picked at by compulsive minds
bent on excavating small lesions
into large, gaping wounds.
We are left with sad avenues
lined with inflated puppets
convulsing in weird gyrations
by belly fulls of blown air,
each with a power cord
stuck up you know where.
Gifts, Talents, Abilities and Great Potential
...they are given to us so that we may be a giver also.
Isn't it great that God does not give ALL them to one individual.
It would causes one to rage in pride feeling that he or she did it on their own.
In God's infinite wisdom He knew that our finite mind could not hold it all.
However, we MUST be open beyond our limited mind so that we maybe to expand father beyond our understanding.
As a rope is entwine together,
makes it stronger and able to carry a heavier load.
As balloon is inflated, it allowed expansion to grow,
progressing to maturity.
The term that one may use it that;
"I am a self make man (or woman)."
Are you? Let's wait and see, time will tell.
Christmas season and the New Year has pass and Easter approaching, let us ALL continue to give thanks to our living God who sent His only begotten Son so that we may be able to face the challenges to come.
If you find any errors in this message,
my limited Gift, Talent, Ability and Great Potential, God is still working on me. How about you?
Written: January 17, 2026, for contest sponsored by Constance La France
Quote: “Dusk remembers what the heart forgets.” By Poet
************
I never questioned tastefulness or sway.
The vine bent through the fading of the day—
Not like the softness of your lips on mine
As dusk stole luster from the vineyard way.
I revere the earth from which I refine,
I implored for goodness, engrossed in wine.
Beneath the dim shadows of the fall crop—
It seems just warmth, nothing further divine.
Each week, I grind myself down with a strop,
Start our path, bound for the grave or the top.
A long stretch, ending with tears in the eyes—
Faith doesn't demand a grand ripple to drop
You drift by day, resting below calm skies.
No inflated self, just a lost disguise—
Gone are the cheerful moods and youthful tales
No grief or angst, yet left to stain the dyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The table moans~
a sanctuary of overindulgence,
each plate a silent sermon
on the sin of gluttony.
I chisel my hunger into little gods:
the third serving, the midnight raid,
the gradual communion
of eating what cannot
be expressed.
And when my stomach preaches
its inflated gospel,
I kneel before the porcelain altar,
telling no one
but my own empty reflection
how even the feast
leaves me hungry.
A fly on the wall can surely see
The blatant display of idiocy
The lies that you spread, disguised as a truth
An unshakeable stance, in spite of the proof
Conceited, inflated in your own regard
Pathetically pompous; a view to discard
You are not smart, or true to your word
Just a big mouth on legs, completely absurd!!
My past was like a red balloon
It inflated yet burst too soon
The air dispersed without a boon
And it echoed my afternoon
My blissful days seemed like a cake
But sweetness became overbaked
The aftertaste could never slake
As moments were just underbaked
Yet days and nights remain my gift
Of life that brings lasting uplift
Even if candles fade and drift
My fire ignites through snowdrift
Though balloons may burst in distress
And cakes may unleash bitterness
My soul with Him dwells in wholeness
And my heart blooms forth in pureness
ONE
Marlboro in flight
Distinguished bud hold ropes tight
Driving, smoKING sight
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
TWO
Cremated bud ash
Flew on inflated blimp gas
Product, sponsor pass
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THREE
Airport told ‘shut down’
Cigarettes, coming to town
Balloon bud just found
Chivalry is a relic of the past.
The era of fair ladies and noble chivalry appears long gone. Men board buses and trains, and in cramped passageways, they rudely instruct women—especially on the freeway—to move aside and stop delaying traffic.
Yet, the fair ladies of today are no longer timid; they refuse to be wallflowers and often display inflated egos. In response to this assertiveness, men resort to labeling them as whores, es, and witches.
Women, let us not bow our heads or apologize. Chivalry has faded away because men have become broken giants, struggling with their own shortcomings. Weak by nature in their arrogant behavior, they seem trapped in an endless cycle. The question lingers: when will it come to an end? Who do they think they are, mere dust from falling stars?
Where a series of
messages fly across
profiles inflated
in balloons of
hot air.
Where a model with doctored skin
sells better cells to cover your acne,
where people 'blackout' Tuesday
and appropriate taking a knee.
Where truth is a golden ticket, impossible to find,
where 'likes' replace juries, and we forget to #bekind.
Where stories are created at the push of a key,
replacing where dreams and drafting used to be.
Where a voice called Alexa can order, suggest and locate,
but also listen and through silent algorithms manipulate.
Where faceless Gemini can offer names for your new-born,
an ironic namesake, a duplicitous invader on your own front lawn.
And most of the time
those ongoing anonymous
messages simply
ghost
TO BEING IN LOVE’S LOVE
Being in love is an episodic emotion
Ballooned in exotic expectation
Tested by inflated orgasmic delirium
Often fizzing in diabolical diffusion:-
On the other hand,
Loving and being loved,
Is an eternal comic reality
That God spiritually bonds
To be eternal throughout life:-
How beautiful and exciting it is
To love spiritually, and eternally;
Being in the cosmic reality of
Blessed God sent true love
Ballooning beyond all
Limits and expectations:-
Being forever in love with you
Remains exciting and loving
And being loved by you is limitless,
And beyond all expectations: Praise God!
Each day I give Him thanks for the gift of you:-
Can you hear the absence of bickering,
the snickering, snide remarks and animosity?
The pomposity of inflated egos in blogs
that just shouldn't be taking place.
A blog without the chance for someone's
feelings to be trampled and hurt~
Just once~ humor me for creating such a blog.
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