Insures Poems

Bridging the Present

Hope may wane
and wishes fade
but art forever keeps
Dawn till dusk
till dawn again
incessance buried deep
Sculptors sculpt
and painters paint
as writers seize the day
Creation’s bridge
 its toll insures 
—tomorrow’s yesterday

(The New Room: September, 2023)

Far Away Soundings

Dominatrix of silence
leather clad temptress
enchaining the moment
in bondage allured     

Her fear but a prison   
of far away soundings
and seraphic voices
—the future insures    

(Dreamsleep: August, 2023)

Info Wars

A common thread in humanities fabric,
    Sees knowledge as power that one obtains.
        Even our science hints to this information,
            As what is transferred along quantum cosmic lanes.

This data is constantly flowing, in a
    Sea so vast that no shoreline is seen.
        Although a rhythm is found among cycles,
            And our thirst tries to collect in a canteen.

Just as most resources possess value,
    The lessons learned aren't universal or absolute.
        Since the harvesting stretches beyond boundaries,
            And the farm worker's only choose the best fruit.

What this insures is an abundant yield,
    That will last throughout time and space.
        With the hope it will find needed wisdom,
            Where mankind survives...content in its place.

Laurels of a Certain Win

To expect sure defeat insures a ravaged heart
Returns without the laurels of a certain win
Dampening one's ardor from a challenging start,
Perhaps, it was better this race not to begin.

Enter each endeavor with the will to finish
First among many equals, better than them all,
Never for a moment let your strength diminish
Before a beginning whistle stand straight and tall.

Never let a weakness your competition see
It builds barriers you find difficult to check,
Consider subtle doubt your fiercest enemy
Picture the winning gold medals around your neck.

Engage confidence, never let it run amuck
For winning a race is always far more than luck.

Written September 3, 2022

The Color of Hope

The yellow of gold.
A symbol of wealth.
It garners respect.
And insures good health.

Man's great love affair.
Like the Midas king.
Can bring many gifts.
As well as tears bring.

A royal color. 
And official too.
It looks good on flesh.
And the color blue.

For things dear we hold.
Shines the ring of gold!

Grubbn An Scrubbn

Grubb’n and scrubb’n for the Jackson
Shak’n our bacon for the Jackson
Life is all about the Jackson
Anyone who says it ain’t, got more action.

Maybe inherited it?
Never had to earn their own dollar.
I am the people baby.
Standing up to holler.

The money means nothing to the super rich.
But the rest of us are watching, and have to .
Electoral College insures we will never have a voice.
My cousin was shot dead for being black. His name was Royce.

Yes you can get shot dead just for being the wrong color.
You can be rich from climbing out of the right mother.
There is a disparity bigger than ever seen before.
The country is on fire, and soon going to war.

Grubb’n and scrubb’n for the Jackson.
Shak’n our bacon for the Jackson
Life is all about who has the money.
If you don’t know it, you must have inherited, honey.

The Dark Web

The dark web isn't all that dark from what I have seen,
no darker than the real world or public internet scene, 
but its use is discouraged because of its sinister name, 
and all I can say is, that's a damned shame.
The dark web insures your privacy, 
hiding your location and identity,
preventing government or anyone from accessing 
any and all of your personal private information.
Until we rise to a true civilized ascension,
the dark web is the best way presently to exchange information,
without the fear of government intervention and/or persecution.

School Wastes My Time

School wastes my time
I want to be President
I want power and prestige.

I want to be able to be mean to the handicapped
I want to be able to snatch children from their parents
I want to disregard every law that was ever created as a check or balance
I want my children exempt from those laws too

Wonderful that America’s youth is learning this
Taught by those who advocate the wonderfulness of 
Our antiquated voting system – namely the Electoral College
Which insures we will never be a democracy

On Memorial Day especially I weep for the men and women
who died for this country not realizing we are a republic
And even if they had lived long enough to vote, 
their vote would not have counted if they lived in the wrong state
or if their state representative decided to vote their way instead of their constituents way.

I am sick of the corruption I see
I did not want either candidate last time
But I certainly did not want the person who made fun of others
More importantly I think everyone’s vote should have an equal chance.

Spiritual Victory

Spiritual victory* in our fight against temptation…
…Shows God’s might to subdue lust, Satan, and world’s destruction!!!

Yielding to the Holy Ghost with willingness…
…Brings our faith to His control for victorious meekness!!!

Battling our own self-reliant, self-glorying motive...
Forces constant dependence to the Lord for His triumphant directive!!!  

Meeting the Saviour on the altar of supplication-plight…
…Insures jubilant prayer-time with peace delight!!!

Seeking the Creator during praise-filled worship…
…Empowers sincere obedience toward faithful stewardship!!!

*2Samuel 23:12 But he stood in the midst of the ground, and defended it…and the LORD wrought a great victory.

May 19, 2019

Teachers

Teacher tell us what they know,
Encouraging us to grow,
Asking questions, giving solutions,
Can make us go in the right direction,
Helping us to find our aim,
Expecting us to build our own fame,
Recognizing wrong and right,
Securing our future making it bright.

At the end of the school,
We all are cool,
There is only beach and sun,
We really have fun,
But never forget that the teacher is one,
Who insures that we always won.

The Call

Oh, who do you call,
My beautiful one?

Rising in iridescent splendor
In the dark side of light against the creeping dawn.

A mourning cry to follow ere the heat of day,
Dries up the velvet feathered throats of longing.

A reddened eye of patience waits and watches;
Awash in tall grass, brown eyes blink
Then more as fear leaps to flight in graceful bounds.

But a muscular coat of dusty fur and the ruby spray of death
Insures another day of life and an all too ready hunger.

That Space Inside

Leaving room
  for the reader 
  to grow within
  what you write
  insures immortality
  connecting your words
  permanently to their
  feelings
  creating a home
  where the meaning 
    —can live

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Watching The Eagles 3-Hour Documentary: June, 2016)

Fate's Wicked Black Hand and Its Long Sharp Sword

Fate's Wicked Black Hand And Its Long Sharp Sword

As withdrawn sword shows its reds and gashed side aches so
horror's hand is shown in colors that are vibrant,
within swirling shadows and their flesh flaying blows
echo black curses and cuts that are redundant.
As this rampaging world, crashes upon the weak
innocent souls walk into nights of wanton sins,
oft embracing evil with relish, stench that reeks
with no thought to stop or ever make true amends.
When it seems Fate's granite mountains tumble on down
falling to crush blind masses and drink flowing blood,
safely away have flown those with their golden crowns
into havens far from the poor they see as crude.
Yet even mighty Kings can not flee Fate's true wrath
as dark deeds insure miseries lay in their path.

Robert J. Lindley, Sept, 26th, 1979, as was written -no new edits
Sonnet, (Fate Insures That Even Mighty Kings Fall)

Insured From What

What is it with insurance today?
Why is it such an endeavor? 
It used to be that when you pay
You were covered for whatever

Now they nit pick it all to death
They try to say parts aren't covered
I deal with ailments we all have
Not something that's undiscovered

Insurance insures my peace of mind
That's what it is supposed to be
Sometimes it seems I'm just insured
Of trouble down the road for me!

Cancer

Shoulders broad,  wide
the weight rest. 
more is piled on. because
there is more room.

the night guarantees the dawn. 

but the night is where it happened. 
between the finish and the start
and in that order

when they are not watching.
more weight. 
craving the load.
hating the heaviness. 

knowing  the sun is there. 
The brightness of the moon insures its distance

the hours
the hours 11, 12, then 1 again

lucky enough to not know.
to not know the dawn by name
but only as day

but that is where it started 
that is where the end started, 
that day, that day before
the end

the cancer has told a story.
it told the worst story, one with out an end

the finish nor the start separate themselves. 
only the hours in-between.  
11, 12 then 1 again 

heaviness accumulates.
shoulders broad, wide 

to stare at the sun light. 
rather its reflection in the moon, 

to understand light,
to not be blinded by it, 
that is night.
that is the end……….just before the beginning……and in that order

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