Long Boils down to Poems
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In saying this I feel the shame
It's not the US alone to blame.
It's also UK & all the EU.
It all boils down to me & to you.
Neither is it only just their mess;
Neither is it politics or the press
Or the corporations
Or other nations.
***
There was a time in history
When humanity would say "It's no mystery.
It's the work of the devil
That the playing field is not level."
"It's the axis of evil
That allow some to be so gleeful,
When so many must suffer,
For they are 'the other.' "
***
"They should know their place & see!"
Whilst some, happy in their complacency,
Watch millions starve & die;
And the horse we sit upon is so high,
That looking down we do not see
That the real cause is actually you & me.
Depression and heartache and yearning -
common throughout all the years,
general amongst all the masses,
driven by so many fears.
It’s truly the struggle of ages,
despite born of mansion or cave.
Is life the thing that you’re living,
or is it life that you crave?
It's tied to a question so simple -
just what do you live your life for?
Do you live to live in the moment,
or are you searching for more?
But also it boils down to choices,
just how you spend your free time.
And of opportunity, what do you take -
do you grab and try to align
the way that you're living with all that you want?
That's really the question you see.
The one that you'll spend your days looking back on...
throughout all eternity.
I thought I would try entering Three Contest
With one poem--
MY POETRY SOUP RECIPE
By Cindi Rockwell
A NATURAL METAPHOR
By Jamie Pan
WORD CHALLENGE CONTEST
By Silent One
This should triple my losses,
Just think 3 N/A's for the work of one.
I must be getting lazy or going crazy
but here goes.........
I might seem as nutty as a fruitcake
Or having a slight touch of Insanity
But here's some food for thought, ingredients I've got
Though my recipe for Soup, starts with Humanity
Now, for those who like life a little spicy
I'll add a little dash of profanity
I'm afraid to put to much, for it'll taste like double dutch
And everything I say, just Inanity
I hate to say it, but, I stir the pot
'Cause people who like soup, hate Mundanity
But when the kitchen gets to hot, and I gave it all I've got
I step outside and show some Urbanity
Sometimes, I will burn a dish or two
Hoping that's the only Fatality
Cause if it doesn't rhyme, I'll just add a pinch of thyme
And never taste the flavors of Brutality
It's true I like to add a smirk or giggle
Course, there's times it boils down to reality
So, any way it goes, in your mouth then out your nose
I'm really do not care much for Formality
I tried to make three dishes at a time
To only serve, a half baked Morality
After working, my fingers to the bone
It's clear, I'm no "gourmet" of Mentality
Now everything I make is "Du Jour"
Creating new flavors with Vitality
And if they scorch my entrée, on the way
I hope I never act with Volcantiy
It's the doers that will do something in this world
The past it haunts with a heavy presence those idle souls
they sat back as the future of the next generation is stolen
the calling card boils down to those that breathe fresh air
remembering a quote which held me in thought
That peace was the enemy of memory
the wicked stand confounded framed by deeds
there is a spiritual war taking place backwards moving forward
how far down the ladder do we go before stepping up
hate devours love examining the truth if it were to turn face
respect has lost all communication when fighting this beast
unrepentant it suffers the agony throwing bitterness to the fowl
when it crows it worms its way around sympathy
wicked it claws for acceptance never seeing guilty as justice
it hides with the sloth always seeking but never finding
on the tombstone carved once bitten twice shy
here lies the remains of a broken child
whom sold by actions a nation down the river
There are times when it’s just them and I
I read them a book and then they try
We dance in the kitchen and sing really loud
I’m not good with structure, but fun is allowed
I let them be little, some say they’re wild
But I vividly remember, myself as a child
I still resent those foolish restrictions
So, one by one, out the window, I kicked them
I’m a race car driver on the fun, bumpy road
I accelerate fast, just in time, I will slow
They hold up their hands and pretend to be flying
I brake for the curve. I have perfect timing
I accrue a new accent, when I get a wild hair
I practice in public and strangers stare
It makes them chuckle, that I could be so bold
But age is a number, I’m really not old
I come up short in more ways than a dozen
I’m often excluded from adult discussion
But I’m not aiming for the parenting standard
They can walk a straight line, but know when to swerve
They’re assured they are safe and most deeply loved
I lead by example and guide them above
It boils down to me doing, the best I know how
Your accusations are opinion and I disallow
Next Monday I get my peepers checked
Certainly couldn't be better timing
Bumping into walls, wearing Cathie's sciveys
For my 20-20 vision I'm pining
Fed our bird Tweety a big bowl of dog food
Fed our dog Rover some bird seed
Rover tried to fly off the top of his doghouse
While Tweety lifted her leg to pee
Hope I don't do myself some bodily harm
While hoisting my bum on the sink
Thinking they're making toilets a lot higher
A peeper check is overdue, I think
By mistake I donned one of Cathie's gowns
Felt so silky and sexy and girlie
But Cathie caught me posing in front of the mirror
Thought I was starting to act kinda squirrely
A real dilemma most unusual to encounter
During my very short stay here on earth
What it all boils down to is very bad eyesight
But it causes much laughter and mirth
© Jack Ellison 2015
Listen in,
I, hear in rhythm, speak in rhyme,
watch my words reverberate through space and time,
a 5th dimensional element,
the existentially elegant. One.
The harvest of the father's seed,
reaped by the mother's hand. Son.
Facing the trials of endless miles of unseen roads,
with sole-less shoes and open wounds covered by tattered clothes.
Just me and God, and where this journey leads,
only one of us knows.
A story in the making of glory for the taking,
of triumph, of victory, betrayal, forsaking.
The story of a king, serving under the King.
The story of the proven one, prolific one, of me.
If you could look through my eyes and see what I see,
you’d see the pieces to life’s puzzles hidden beneath.
A surface made of, shady vanities
masked in sensual profanities,
that appeal to the masses,
and exploit all humanity’s,
weakness, is what it boils down to,
we all have it. But rather than rooting it out,
we choose to conceal it under million dollar camouflage
and use perfumes to mask the scent of our doubt.
Trying to realize our identity within
but failing to realize our identity in Him,
He being the one who allows us to transcend,
and hear in rhythm, speak in rhyme,
watch our words reverberate through space and time,
be a 5th dimensional element,
an existentially elegant. One.
Crossing boundaries this world has deemed prohibited.
Because God’s Universal Reign is Unlimited.
One.
If my pen would talk, it'd say what I thought,
what do I think would come straight from the ink.
If it was blue, red, or black the words wouldn't change,
the ink states the facts.
The facts are words, thoughts and rhyme,
reading them could take some time.
Time is here, there and all around,
my pen making the only sound.
The sound is words, rhythm and rhyme,
the sound it says is for you and I.
Now that my pen has said what its said,
its talked quite a bit to get near the end.
With an end near and in its site,
my pen has used much of its mite.
Its talked and wrote, for this, this note it wrote.
What's the meaning with all this ink thats been said,
was for you my (Debi) our love is that, what's been said.
I love you, as my pen has showed its took quite a bit,
to get to this part of the show.
With the credits running past through and through,
it boils down to just me and you.
I love you my sweet, my pen has agreed,
I love you my dear, it's you that I need.
My pen has wrote what's needed to be said,
I love you baby, this last part is from (Ken).
The cap has been placed back on the pen,
the words at the end, came from me and my heart within.
I love you.
Always great fun at an intersection
With only a four way stop
You start, he starts, it's him no it's me
Nose to nose, where's a cop
You glare, he glares, nothing's solved
It boils down to a battle of wits
Like kids arguing over a colourful pull toy
“That's mine! No, it's mine!” and you sit
Even the ear shattering sound of horns
Has no effects on this yahoo!
All hell breaks loose, 8 guys get out
And a bloody fist fight ensues!
Standing back I watch the proceedings
Grown men acting like jerks
Get back in my car, I drive around it all
It's not worth being late for work
Four way stops are becoming quite rare
In this fast paced world we live in
The days of civility have all been replaced
When nobody's willing to give in
© Jack Ellison 2013
When it boils down to the truth taking a platform
the words Jesus speaks deeply to me
Most assuredly I say to you
before Abrabham was I am
there is no one before Him or after Him
In my books He is Alpha and Omega
clearly from this statement our Lord says
I am the first and I am the last
besides Me there is no God
Picking up the stones under blasphemy laws
being a man trying to make yourself a god low key
speaks for itself the worth you attach to life
for what works do you label someone
is it for the value or beliefs held inside
for every attack is on Love by hate
and our King holds the keys of Hades and of Death