Long Going south Poems
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Sudden realisation
Comes after
Myriad detours
Going round
And round
In mindless circles
Seeking yet
Not finding
Incomplete knowing
Distracted by
Insidious niceness
Holding nothing
Steering off
The main road
Of sure awareness
Going south
When seeking north
Beyond purgatory
Blazing in hell
When heaven calls
With gracious echoes
Happy with
Empty waste
When fullness abounds
Petty excuses
For silly ego
And proud discontent
Right focus
For wrong reasons
In zigzag madness
Stumbling blindly
And falling into
Quicksand quagmire
Unnecessary pain
When grace showers
A helping hand
Unaware
Of true blessings
In a senseless bind
Leon Enriquez
25 September 2014
Singapore
Leaf dies in air
Trees going bare
Death stalks the woods
Of those athletically good
Sweating summer heat
In games where they compete
Never do they cheat
Being honest and true
Acting cool
Laughing fools
Champions determined
Life lessons learning
Decision final and confirmed
Hardware issue no longer a concern
Northern success exposed
Confederates propose
Move inside
Red lights will guide
Scores made
Making the grade
Finally, a trade
Check signed, saying paid
Shutting mouth
Going south
Community warm
Staying in University dorm
Will make this undergraduate program a winner
Before the all-inclusive meal plan dinner
Then off to the library and study
Learn how to make, investment money
Earning a degree, that is what is funny
Since making field goals really wasn’t a realistic thing
Along with not being able to sing
But books in print
Will hint
Proper direction
After securing academic protection
Fiery flames of leaves light up this mountain.
Brilliant oranges and reds nurture my heart.
I watch another snake down toward me
Wonder if this driver is also in awe of God’s work.
Almost wave as he starts past me.
But that would be silly, right?
He waves, but is gone
Before I can give an answering wave
Two travelers, one going north,
The other going south,
Passing on God’s prettiest mountain
In October. What could be finer than that?
Will he tell his wife and children about this place?
Would they be able to picture it?
Could I capture a photo while I drive?
God smiles at my thoughts, more here than ever before.
To the north are the gators
Growling “see you later”
Then going south
Playing French quarters with their mouth
“We love our Hurricanes
And bit coin games
Hitting the table
Making a basket if able
And when done
Feeling brain damage not coherent but having fun”
Still on the coincidental ride
Another side
Dropping Jacksons off paying the bills
Looking to gain something to fulfill
Big school notoriety and the skill
Of predatory nature ending with a successful kill
Having own luggage
Baggage from the state University budget
Wearing Izod promotional school ware
Cheering ‘chomp chomp’ to rivals who dare
Challenge those departing Pat O’Brien’s
CBS/SEC using voodoo spells chants and crying
Remembering leaving LA
Not many tolls asking to be paid
Unless taking the beach line express
Knowing political coffers needing address
Their coffee table books being cooked are a mess
Trip Tik Triple A
Showing another way
Peering eyes might say
“Through the Everglades
And are you going there for grades
Or party before choosing trades”
Weather or not you are still around in four years
Let’s get something straight about weekend nights and drinking beers
It is always the Buccaneers
Behind the Captain’s wheel doing the steering
In the new world where you both should be fearing
While getting sunshine waiting for the next ex spelling hearing
Swings and hides in the kangaroo court.
The bulldog drops him with one report.
He struggles and fights to stay on his feet.
His fancy footwork skips every beat.
Bob and weave, stick and move.
He floats like a kangaroo with no groove.
Pathetic and weak and nothing original.
He hides in the bush like an aboriginal.
Come on sparky, show me something new.
Are you tired of the bulldog beating you black and blue?
A kick in the rear is what you need.
Your sorry punches are lacking speed.
You think you’re cool with your big mouth.
True north is where I am. You’re going south.
You’ve got no power to your punch.
This Bulldog eats Kangaroos for lunch.
I'm getting older, Father Time's my foe:
I cannot trust a fart, and pee all night -
have ceased to count how many times I go;
I'm to and fro the loo 'till morning's light.
I've gained a rounded tum and lost my hair,
my flesh has started sagging, going south,
the part that stood erect is hanging there,
and plastic dentures fill my grumpy mouth.
But now I'm old, my gas is part of life;
no longer clenching tight to hold it in.
I will not bother searching for a wife -
I'm flattered if they'd think we'd 'live in sin'!
Though all's not bad - no oozing teenage spot;
I may be craggy but not polka dot...
* not autobiographical!!!!!
for Carolyn's Hope contest
The morning air is cooler
At noon it gets warmer
Its how the days begins
Now it is a change
Of seasons
Although summer weather
Is still with us awhile
We must enjoy it
It will no last long
Cool temperatures come
Some trees have leaves
Soon more trees will change
Then when the colors change
The leaves will begin falling
Until the trees are bare
Our hot summers
Lack of the rainfall
Made the grass brown
Then the rain will pour
Brown grass will be green
The geese will honk flying
Saying good bye for summer
For me it is a sad
To watch birds flying
Going south for warmth
When results are not in, the night the polls close
It gives rise to the lies from all those we despise
From those who the liars all hope that we chose
The ones who dishonestly seek to depose
All but buyers of liars, wearing emperor's clothes
No longer a virtue… if it ever was
You can search at the church but it won't likely cause
Plausible deniability to not rule the day
Which now has its sway
In whatever endeavor for those who will pay
It's our terrible two's so we elected a toddler
Didn't think twice so we did it again
It's trying, this lying, there should be a trial
And trials like this are where it rubs thin
And thin skinned or weak chinned again it begins
But thin skinned or weak chinned, it matters not now
We must learn where we've been or we're going back now
And we'll keep going south, the further we go
As we live hand to mouth, til there's nothing to show
For the hard work put in to get us this far
We crawled, then we walked, then we talked a good game
Taught the world all the rules until they did the same
Now the world waits to see if we'll take the next step
To a healthy childhood, and then adolescence,
Responsible adulthood before our senescence
As a country we'd better learn from these lessons
And lessen the likelihood we've lost the essence
But waiting's not dating or baiting or hating
It's anticipating what we can do better
And we sure could improve on a lying bed wetter
Third times the harm sustained by the bluster
That fulfills the promise of all the King's muster
The Midas inside us has led to the crows
Who gather the shiny bits He always throws
And it's all worn thin as the Emperor's clothes
Grannies pastry shop has seen good years
I still remember running errands as a kid
I even got my first kiss by that old chummy block
As I jumped out pretending I was going out for air
But now it's time to let it all go
We celebrated our birthdays here with the staff
Everyone felt like fahm, everyone loved it here
For it was by the silent street down that road
Across the sea with calming breeze
But now the breeze is blowing the door, time to close up
We've got so many fond memories here
To everyone this is a big blow
And though we had it coming for sometime now
We hoped granny could jump back on her feet,
to whoop some of those delicious treats
And no one seemed to have learnt from her
Cause since she went home things kept going south
Till the time we could hardly keep up with the payments
We've been in the red for a while, but now it's beeping
It's on it's last breathes before it's all out
The PO£T
A squirrel dashed in front of me,
An acorn in his mouth.
I was heading up the block;
He was going south.
He on four feet, I on two;
Each, though, in a hurry.
I’d increased my pace a bit;
He was all a’scurry.
I had many chores ahead;
Maybe he as well.
What a squirrel’s day is like
Is kinda hard to tell.
Still, we both were racing home
With breakfast on our minds –
He, no doubt, an acorn,
One of his more precious finds.
I’d be having coffee
With some matzoh and some cheese,
Each of us anticipating
Food we hoped would please.
Yet, we’d shared a moment,
Like an urban tip of hat:
A species cross-connection
And c’mon, how nice is that?