Born into the soothe of tidepools
hardly a ripple hardly a care
infinity in the shallow so near
but there are no treasures here
only the seduction of security.
on the horizon you see shinning things
maps to treasures that we're born to seek
knee deep we frolic about
then slide into the thick blue
where thrashers abound
There it lies like a sleepy silver eye
on the sandy shelf
just above the abyss
awaiting destiny
you reach bit by bit
it's always just out of reach
You've convinced yourself
that you've given your best
heart pirates move in
and glean the last fleck
from your chest.
Return to shallows warm-
a bit battered and worn
(knowledge and wisdom came at a premium price)
back into the tidepool of reflection
the horizon scribes the journey
from beginning to end.
They were all out standing in their field
with an ass or two and a few moose
along with a stray Canadian goose
when someone let the Appaloosas loose
not a welcome sight nor pretty view
while the moose who cud did slowly chew
the well-trained colt did not bolt
or even buck to shuck us
the goose didn't give a honk or hoot
but the asses kicked up such a ruckus
and if mushrooms you have half a mind
to seek (not the magic kind of stalk)
be aware take care of where you walk
as there by the end of the week let me remind
the field was knee-deep if not chock-a-block
with what the livestock left behind
Pain To Greatness
Breath in the cold.
Don’t tell me no.
Run through the street.
Put on your hoodie.
Be a mystery.
Let me be.
Stay ready.
Hustle knee deep.
Knuckles bloody.
Get to work.
Row up hill, suffer.
Hustle till you drop.
Pain to greatness.
Feel the pain.
Push the grind.
No age matters.
Gray hair, I’m stronger.
No excuses.
My life keeps burning.
Hustle forward.
No day, tomorrow.
Level up.
Sweet hard.
Go into exhaustion.
All worth it.
Pain to greatness.
No talking.
Work.
I am tired of pretending
that anger is a flaw.
It burns through me clean,
and still they ask for smiles
while standing knee-deep in the ashes.
I wasn't born to swallow my tongue.
I wasn't raised
to fold myself
just so others could stretch.
There were days I begged to be seen,
and when they looked,
they flinched-
as if the truth was too sharp to hold.
But I've learned:
the sharp things are often the most honest.
I don't owe softness
to the ones who
only listen
when I whisper
Submission leads to sustenance?
In what world is this?
Death, dynamite, dominance!
Blowing Doom a kiss!
High cliff force in summer late?
Staggers in the gait.
O ye gods above, strife? Sate.
Too much on thy plate...
Drums played by the war gods?
Poets, by Fate required.
Nuclear my temper-rods!
Mercenaries hired!
Tyrant of tomorrow, time!
Knee deep in the slime!
Sullen silence slight sublime!
Wind, blow well each chime...
Mime, form well thy boxes.
Prisoner, poison pen.
Where the golden phlox is?
O dragon, from thy den!
Then again, old vampire:
Is succor still a curse?
Pinnacle, apex and spire!
Son, you could do worse!
Versed in rite and ritual?
Flickering fine and free?
Sing within me, brazen bull!
Fire fancifully...
The winter was long
it came in like the lamb
but continued to roar like a lion
the snow came down lightly
piling snowflake after snowflake
soon it became knee deep
it continued and became waist deep
instead of walking thru water at a beach
it became walking thru heavy clinging snow
each breath inhale and exhale
become laboured by the cold and exercise
instead of warm sandy water in bare feet
we were in deep heavy snow with snow boots
dreams of warmth and the sun and far away places.
Christmas Morning Santa
Christmas morning, and I, by chance to see,
near a mistletoe leaf that had fallen from a tree,
Santa, stuck knee-deep in the snow
with a puzzled look on his face and drawers opened
that revealed a hare, who, too, looked confused,
and timepieces melting away from the heat.
“Santa,” I cried, “What are you doing here?”
For I could only assume, Santa fell out of his sleigh,
and the reindeer headed for the North Pole alone,
after a long, arduous night of delivering presents.
He just stared at me while the sun cast our shadows,
and I hoped the reindeer would soon reappear
to take Santa home to get ready for next year.
***
A lion, a tin man, and a scarecrow.
Followed Dorothy, beyond the rainbow.
Singing and dancing, they strode,
Along the yellow brick road.
Where an old witch, plunged them knee deep in snow.
1l / 23 / 2024.
Lamenting land of broken hearts left to bleed
Mahogany misery loves company on bone beach
Seas of skeletons once were hearts on sleeves
Littering black sands like sea shells knee deep
See here the hand that was severed for theft
Stealing for reasons to feed others and self
Now a part of bone beaches black sand
And in the sinful world is a handless man
See here there is a woman without her womb
She killed her children during a full moon
She blamed it on a black man sealing doom
She is destined to a bone beach tomb
The hounds of hell will chew and chew
On all the bones and skulls for food
Never will be full despite what’s consumed
For they too are damned with hunger so huge
Bone beach is where elephants go to die
Bodies bloat souls fly high
But for those who have blackness inside
Outcast to black sands hell hounds eat you alive
Winds rattle the windows
while babes are asleep;
Cows traverse the fields
through snow that's knee deep.
Chickens are in the coup
surrounded by straw,
They are not alone in
waiting for the thaw.
Water pipes are frozen,
power lines come down;
Snowplows move back and forth
through the snow locked town.
Schools have been cancelled,
kids skate on the ice;
Many snowmen been built,
each one's very nice.
There be some that don't like
all this stuff of white,
Many have left the state
by car or by flight.
But that is nothing new,
happens every year,
And it is they'll return
after springtime's here.
And so the seasons go
as the months roll by,
Time waits for no one now
and ne'er answers why.
It's funny how it works,
so precise, so neat,
Yet some hating the cold
also hate the heat.
Seems nothing much changes
when you look out from vestibules;
The grass always looks greener
if the rich ones make all the rules.
You can walk many miles,
moving far from your precious youth,
Yet those men won't tell you
if you will ever find the truth.
Signs on the avenue
try to tell you which way to go
And yet it's always hard
when the arrow can't find the bow.
Even prints in the sand
will someday be washed out to sea;
Some may say they've been lost
while others swear they've been set free.
Age is just memory
that has carried you through the years,
Might serve you in good times
or leave you knee deep in arrears.
Daily dues will accrue,
each penny is to be repaid,
While all the plans of man
will not be accepted in trade.
When it comes to move
take only what it is you'll need;
Leave the baggage behind,
there's no need for the weight of greed.
Keep the contacts at hand,
those of your relatives and friends;
They are the keys of life
upon which your freedom depends.
Beware, do not learn the dance
of jealousy, do not chance
being fatally impaled
with the tip of your own lance.
Jealousy is such a liar,
meant to set your heart on fire;
it will steal your sweet lover,
put you knee-deep into mire.
Please listen attentively to me,
jealousy is never meant to be
the definer of romantic bliss;
dance the dance of purest love, I plead.
I wish I had
seen the red flags in life
Wisdom would have helped guide my way
instead I closed the door to knowledge
ignored all signs of trouble
then opened it at the wrong moment
when a thousand flags were flying
to my dismay
to this day
I still am knee deep in red flags
I come home to great works of literature submerged in water
Knee deep
The landlady tells me not to worry
You don't need sugar in coffee - you're sweet enough
Arteta, the Arsenal manager is asked about superlatives
The poet within him replies, "I don't mind adjectives".
I can't believe you don't believe
we just rolled passed your fenced in home
But we left something behind
People looking and thinking if we're their kind
I feel like a clown
Then you pretend We're not around
People know where they are
Savoir faire the only suite to wear
The demands of workers
Silent pockets of greedy corporations
You can reach down you'll be found
Knee deep in butterfly farts
How can I stand behind him
Memories of alien foot prints
Deep in the woods
Where only I exists
A man called many things but not called you
Different times of his life
Like chickadees mobbing a blackbird
Dont lean on me
I stand half fallen
Being torn from my beliefs
Seeing nothing come out
The machine is not working
They don't dance anymore
But its just like nothing happened
I don't want to be part
Part of this shadow
Part of a life
That knows kind
But won't ever find time
We got too much pride
It's just another day
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