It’s always the least expected
That spectacularly exceeds expectation
Which come to think of it
Isn’t then a high bar to reach!
Life is always simply what it is
But we lose touch
Hidden under layers of mud
Or veils of our own choosing
Like clouds in an open sky.
But Sun is always there, regardless
It’s the one constant.
And when it breaks through
And warms us or lights the way
Plays with rainbows
Or just holds us firmly in embrace
Then we know our place in the world
Without doubt, without thought,
Until we lose it once again.
(9/3/26)
grumpy cucumber was pickled and put inside a jar
Oh this is fun, he lamented. Hardy har har
The other cucumbers were pickled and put in jars too
For some weird reason, this made grumpy less blue
Keep your least—do not waste it on the great,
Lest you beg when all your strength has passed;
With your least, you can endure your fate,
Trust not in them, their promises won’t last.
If you fail, you will be brought to need,
So hold your least and guard it firm and fast;
Trust not people swayed by want or greed,
With little kept, you still may stand at last.
They cannot keep the secrets that you share,
Nor silence hold when trumpets sound abroad;
They rise in noise, then vanish into air,
While what is least in you stands firm with God.
So keep your least—it speaks when all is gone,
The final word you hear when all move on.
Keep your least—do not waste it on the great,
Lest you beg when all your strength has passed;
With your least, you can endure your fate,
Trust not in them, their promises won’t last.
If you fail, you will be brought to need,
So hold your least and guard it firm and fast;
Trust not people swayed by want or greed,
With little kept, you still may stand at last.
They cannot keep the secrets that you share,
Nor silence hold when trumpets sound abroad;
They rise in noise, then vanish into air,
While what is least in you stands firm with God.
So keep your least—it speaks when all is gone,
The final word you hear when all move on.
124.
But At Least
But at least I've just witnessed
That you have changed
You've tried to be fair
To those in despair
You've shown impartiality
To an enemy
Somehow my toils – suicidal, insane
Didn't fully fall in vain
There's no need to worry
Proofs never existed in me
And my “boom” party-protection
Just mere propaganda & opinion
Out of addiction
To watching television
No more reason to arrest nor abduct
No more bother to kill nor destruct
Time to close your Wako-Wako eyes
Time for both of us to rise
Though for me I'm still a Kapuso
My respect & trust are back to 2.
-05/23/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Painful Poems Collection
I Can Say
At Least Is
Always
Every Time
Original.
For A Fact.
Whether You Don’t
Or You Have An
Excuse.
I Don’t Care.
It's Brand New.
Short And Brief.
Doesn’t Sound Nothing
I Thought Before Now
I Certainly Don’t.
So There. Great. Thumbs Up.
Something New. Every Time.
LOL.
-Gray Squirrel
01-31-2026
there's less to lose now
you can't back out
forever was never divisible nor shared
you kept your dignity
it wasn’t ugly
it wasn't cruel
it was so sensible
so uncool
you have some good days
the bad ones ain't so bad
you learned to read the warning signs
to step out of the way
with glad tidings
in a smile and wave
At the very least your lot
is better than most,
you haven't bothered to see
(“Outside Looking In Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
In a dream
The repeated pattern of my own conditioning
Like a Groundhog’s Day set on reset
Reveals to me the futility of the human condition
Habitually doing the same things
While expecting different results;
As Einstein said, THE definition of insanity.
Yet again and again we also wake
With at least the hope of sanity,
The freshness of not being habitually driven
Until we once again start to do
And the conditioning of all these lifetimes
Kicks in again, as we
Without thought, without effort
Take the easy path of least resistance.
(11/24/25)
A stranger among reams of proposals
the original thought bided its time
Counting sheep while very much awake
the sheep eventually sheared
As the thought turned inward
not the least bit frantic
In search of meaning
where none might be found
I smiled and said hello
her loneliness ever so deep yet tangible
kindness ~ ointment to old wounds
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
Decrotive needle work
sewn ito the fabric
they were highlights to
make the invitations look exspensive
Decrotive foods samples
savoury with drinks
The Celebrants marvoled at the audeince
I heard them mention how
they wished they had asked for a $5 dollar ticket fee.
One of the members of the wedding party sent
out a letter asking the attendants to take up a collection
from the many who had come
the budget was running over
due to last minute exspentures
people filled the ballroom
and extra people were needed for different things.
the day of cordinater earned her money that day.
Keeping the many there entertained during the down sides
and keeping people feed while they waited.
Love was the theme of the day
and many in attendance
respected the theme
and allowed the usage of the laugage
of "Bliss" to over take the littlest doubt
from those who were pesitmestic and mean.
The air is ordinary,
flat as the ceiling.
I am not dissolved, not broken,
just waiting—
she's slipping into the woods,
a small vanishing act of trees and smoke.
I stay behind,
a houseplant without a window.
London is a name I repeat
like a charm I can’t afford,
a place I am supposed to belong to
but do not step into.
I am still here,
checking my pulse against
the dull clock of the day.
I say I am not okay—
but the walls do not echo back.
When I count it all,
the bones line up straight,
the cupboards hold food,
the phone rings,
and no one has died.
My worries are real enough
to feel like teeth grazing skin,
but when I press harder,
they dissolve into smoke.
Not tragedy. Not the black lake.
Only the unease of living,
the itch of wanting more.
I hold it close anyway—
this almost-pain,
this not-quite-sorrow.
Because at least it is mine.
Because at least it is not worse.
And yet,
so I say: but, at least—
the worst thing in my hands
is time,
and not death.
George was a prankster, at least one screw loose
Peed in a bottle, tagged it orange juice
His mom drank it all down
Then she started to frown
Her face turned red, then white ~ then chartreuse
I found it curled in the shadow
of what used to be a hospital.
A slow hunch of fur,
the color of old bark—like the forest
had tried to grow itself a question.
It didn’t look surprised to see me.
Just blinked, as if measuring
whether I was worth the glance.
I sat cross-legged beside it,
tore foil from a protein bar—
offered the whole thing,
wrapper and all.
It took the crinkle in two fingers,
held it to the light. Didn’t eat it.
Just listened to the sound
plastic makes in a nuclear breeze.
It exhaled desert globemallow.
A whole Quaternary extinction
in a single breath.
I didn’t ask my question out loud,
but I think it heard anyway.
Do we stand a chance?
The sloth leaned its weight
across a rusted sign
that once read urgent care.
It didn’t speak, but something
about the pinch of its thick,
prehensile lip
said it knew what we’d done—
to the soil, to time, to ourselves.
It forgave none of it.
When it finally turned to leave,
I followed.
Not because I thought
it could save me,
but because it didn’t try to.
Ordinary days, just like before,
No one knows the feeling of being ignored.
It's always that one who makes the heart beat fast,
In every way, giving the heart a blast.
That someone is too far from reality,
The impossible hits differently.
Too good to be true to notice,
Even in the smallest way, there's no space.
It’s always you that gives a butterfly.
It’s you that brings a fast-forward to imply.
Gives the benefit of the doubt to try,
Risking something just to be with you and cry.
You’re my “what ifs” sometimes,
And also, you’re my “at least” every time.
It’s better to give a little shot,
Than to give the negative and make a plot.
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