Long Better luck next time Poems
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Humorous Humors and tumorous assumers and crazy-fascinated consumers spend their money with wings on luxuries of the heart, going topsy-turvy over pleasures and expensive firs
Throw away past pleasures beyond blessing-cursing measures - nothing lasts like future pasts..nothing matters, so don't bother to be the opposite of abstract abyss blurs
You're outta luck
Better luck next time
For trying real hard, here's a buck
Shucks, you're real nice and our irrelevant relationship is super sublime and quite crime
Calm down...faith weighs a pound and hopeless is field-of-avarice-grown
Don't wear a frown
Hyper much? What's for lunch?
Love me a bunch? Here's a punch...
Drink up the blud of defeat
It's from my heart to yours
Let your hands fall to your feet...
Perfect feats and epic, RAD beats got me rocking on my car seat with a seatbelt of course
Threatened like Thor with a hammer...
Attacked a predator of evil endeavors
I'm not antman or any man at that lever
Captain America and Batman saved me and like catman, oh do I let out my thankurrs (thank you purrs)
Stand tall
Crack open the backtracked lies
Don't fall
Or you'll lose it all in farewell's, goodbye's
Boy, how time flies
Girl, you're my seasoned fries
Give it your all tries
Try to make out self-controlled replies
Patience is a peaceful, virtuous vibe I get from you
I getcha loud and clear, misses and misters
You're a disaster in disguise of a dream come true
Fetch me, ah, your scars that turn to embarrassing blisters...shocking to the sight...like hustlers, trying to be like preachers...practice what you preach, gold diggers
We are on the same bus
So don't fuss and cuss...
Unless I say so or He says so, which is hardly ever
Go wherever you wind flows and blows...a mighty blur and I blurt out His Word that heal and my words that injure like gossip murmurs
Sit down
With your grace gown
Disgrace clown...
Mind-blown...got owned - home-bound with a sound of we-are-outta-town
Zero in
Infinity out
Peace out
Kaos in
I liv to luv
I die to h8
I liv to expresssss
I die to impressss
Mines the wonder
Living is an act of aggression. Every time I go out of the house it upsets the balance of the universe. Today I had someone tell me that things were coming undone, old news I replied. They said they were searching for the lost glory but I swear the only thing down that block is a liquor store, a gas station, and an industrial supply house whose rolling door looks so old it amazes me every time I walk by that it doesn’t fall off and crush me. I still bear that burden once a week, it’s the shortest route to the liquor store, I try to be stoic about it. Sometimes when I am sitting on the couch I think a profound thought such as ‘’what if these fleas were not meant for me, what if they were meant for someone else what have I gone and done?’’ In the final judgment, true virtue is going to be thin on the ground. Am I redeemed in the fact that they are fruitfully multiplying, held in surety, or is it usury, for the true and worthy recipient? Another mark in the book of deeds I tell you, and not the good kind. The postman is a really nice guy, I see him out there right now installing some brand new zip-tie on the mailbox to hold on the door that fell off last month, the birds nesting in the back won’t like that. Oh well, I will have to cut it off again, and this time I will have to bring the door in till the birds move on. When they do I will take it back out there and clean out the nest. Then he can zip-tie it back on for good. These timely maintenance tasks are all about scale, I say better luck next time. One little round spot of light in the world, that shines through the barn roof where a nail worked loose is that there is no point in changing, that would only make things worse. As to the hows and the whys, all I can say is the less I know the better, but ain’t the view grand.
Author's note: In "Postcards" I painted one example of a relationship scenario. This piece presents an alternate possibility.
She left me a letter,
Hoped I'd understand.
Things like this happen,
It never was planned.
Sorry she hurt me,
She knows it was wrong.
Tried so hard to love me,
But then he came along.
No use feeling bitter,
It wasn't meant to be.
I'll try to forget her
And move on, c'est la vie.
What I thought was true love
Was just one of those things.
Oh, well, better luck next time,
That's how the pendulum swings.
Friends tell me it's better,
And I'd like to agree,
But what if this past time
Was also the last time,
And there isn't enough time
For a better luck next time
For me?
alternately titled: incorrigible lottery dreamer
big plans to relocate self and spouse
to some tropical island paradise
by the dashboard light
(the above line credited
to musician named Meatloaf)
upon arrival of my steamer.
A fool's errand finds me emptying out billfold,
especially as the winnings increase ninefold.
Paradise visage and eyes a bulge with dollar signs
whets imagination with Mega Millions ticket bought
for potential wealth overtakes rational self
with delusions of grandeur caught
allow, enable and provide flirtation
with fate to experience rich draught
envision emancipation proclamation
from penury a distant battle fought
expect the usual outcome
after next drawing to yield monetary naught
temptation for instant millions eagerly sought
human foible to reach until life lesson taut
for elusive pot of riches
streak of universal desire
and tacked clear of shoals,
where hard scrapple existence wrought.
This poor man's pipe dream
nsync with the milkmaid and her pail
where fanciful notions pluck me out
being day late and dollar short
essentially pennilessness in the extreme
story of mein kampf fortune teller
also known as Zoltar speaks machine
said contraption did foredeem
substantiated, kickstarted, corroborated...
courtesy an archenemy Joaquim
(fiend nixed) and his tall sidekick Kareem
both rogues could shine figurative longerbeam
and discern mine ill fate.
Meanwhile creative endeavors
and linguistic pleasure
thru the literary attempt
suitably with poetic third eye blind
palliative, yet less rewarding versus
garnering large sum of money
would be a dog send
delivered by one blessed angel in disguise
redemption and salvation
considered thankful find
with challenges or commiserate
and complement via words of positive kind
feeble attempt where words synchronize
readers may espy hidden puns
(and divine inspiration - ha)
within this rhyme lined
to pry poem or prose from mind
deliberate semblance to communicate
and extract idea from cranial rind
analogous how stitcher doth tightly wind
a tapestry of rich and royal hue
while twittering and tweeting
“better luck next time.”
Mildred
1. Like the flick of a brush to a canvas, her world was tainted by his love. Barely psychotic.
Led by the armor he wore, she rose like a phoenix. It was fierce and unapologetic.
His crooked smile and throaty laugh lulled her in, a fresh breath of summer.
She raised her kids in absence, somehow forgot how to be a mother.
2. She sought his love like a needle in a haystack while he wove the hair of another.
She ignored us when we were hungry and depressed, when in the arms of his father.
In the presence of the Lord, she asked for an heir—a blood clot connection,
Wanting something much deeper than the bond between a father and a son. A transparent deception.
3. One, two, three miracle strips down the latrine basket. "Better luck next time," she sighed.
She spent nights under tents of stars, wishing for a shooting star instead.
Oh, Kindred!
One, two, three years our hearts were fleshed out by silence and betrayal.
Mother's treasoned to blatant denial.
4. Placing the phone on your bed, awaiting his calls?
For sure, the second Dad is not coming back!
How do I explain to my siblings?
His phone had not been hacked.
5. Karma is a , always whining in her free time.
Mom lost her greatest battle, without ever going to war or searching for mine.
The haunting truth shone in our unalike faces.The second dad was never ours.
And she should not act with bias.
6. A woman and three children he secretly had,
And the eldest and prettiest was called Mildred.
My mom lives in oblivion, their father in the naive arms of his l'amour de la vie.
I have seen you flash by
Amidst thick green foliage and swaying pines
Like a distant silver dream
On receding skyline
But was never satisfied
For a close encounter I craved
I did then go up
The Space Needle in Seattle
Hoping to have a clear view
Of your snow-clad balding pate
That thought profound thoughts
Against mortal blues of the empty sky
But, alas, you remained
Elusive to sight
Hiding behind shifting clouds
Yesterday, I drove over a hundred miles
Climbed my way to Sunrise Point
Hoping for a close tete-a-tete
You played truant again
I saw a blank
Of nothingness, void
A grey screen of clouds and mist
As snow-flakes flew around
The board before me read
You were somewhere there
Amidst mighty peaks
Right before my unseeing eyes
Doesn't matter Rainier
You are there, I know for sure
Like the Himalayan peaks
I haven't seen
And yet am charmed by their beauty
On calendars, picture-cards
Inherent philosophy
Their height and grandeur speak
Better luck next time
Rainier, you are a teacher
I have now seen
Lofty nothingness, void
Against which I have all the peaks
Of the world that speak
Of Truth that belongs not to things
But to an evanescent dream
That the Lord, whoever He is
Conjures up for stupid minds
to late you can't skate
you didn't make the team
sorry better luck next time
don't get mad at me
scored high on your
figure eight
but the night is over
put up your skates
too late you can't skate
the parties over
to late you can't skate
grab your skates and go on
we're open in the moring
ah quater to ten
but the night is over
I said with a grin
too late you can't skate
come back tommorrow
go home and practice
work on your form
do some caligentnic
it's to late to skate
the night has ended
to late you can't skate
the night is gone
Inspiring pond and lake monitoring technology.
a sensor to monitor the
freeze and frozen conditions
of ponds lake creeks and
streams.