Long Less is more Poems
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I tried to run,
I tried to hide.
He chased me down,
He took my pride.
Make me humble,
Every step of the way.
I don’t deserve it,
But I get it anyway.
Just let it go,
It’s not up to me.
What’s it gonna take
For us to break bread together?
To love one another
As He has loved us?
Starting little fires,
Here and there.
Fruit of salvation
Delivered to the masses.
10/7/25
Guide my steps,
Guided and measured.
According to Your pace,
Your glory and grace.
No fear with You
I know you’re in control.
Where my feet may fail
I know you never will.
Incomplete is not of God.
Unfinished is not of God.
Spirit of lack is not of God.
Coming undone is of God.
He’ll undo the worst,
He’ll make it the best.
Pulled apart by the flesh,
God will give refresh.
Better than before,
Better than we can imagine.
Less is more and more is less.
Better than before.
God shows up on time.
God works in due time.
But water the earth
For this new birth.
10/8/25
Hold my hand
As I uphold your love.
Peace is jolly good,
We toil for food.
Blessed are you,
Lord our God.
King of the universe,
Who brings forth
Our daily bread.
I see the life I used to live,
Through his eyes my childhood is,
Broken mirrors, I can't look back,
A perfection so perfect, my heart retracks,
Like walking back through time, the atmosphere feels,
So inadequate, so unreal,
The picture painted perfect but far from true,
Have I lowered my standards for living proof,
Have I lived this life to prove less is more,
And not have the best of the best, to pretend to be poor,
So you would never view me better than you,
And I could never intimidate you from being real,
I forfeited luxury, the painting of perfection,
Because I saw the dirt outway the cleanliness in the mirrors reflection,
And spotless was a cover-up my childhood showed,
An assumption to others she looks happy, ya know,
To good to be true, rich paints the pretty picture,
Yet underneath it all, this little girl felt tortured,
Contemplating suicide everyday,
Behind that beautiful house was a soul in pain,
No money could satisfy, not one heart could see,
Behind closed doors, the abuse that reaked,
The image was beautiful, everyone assumed,
But I never could enjoy it, I locked myself in my room,
I could not stand the perfection, the atmosphere was a lie,
I would rather run away than look perfect in societies eyes,
I would choose to look poor, and hear the truth,
It was better than the image with the torture you put me through,
Dear God, why are you bringing me back to this horrible place?,
Showing me the depth of my confusion, my old childhood pain?,
I walk out this mans door with tears in my eyes,
This image scares me, do I deserve better in life?,
Will it bring back the nightmares of the white washed tomb?,
Please Lord, help me to understand, what should I do?
COMMONPLACE PHRASIS IV
Enthusiasm unbounded breaks loose
leaving words behind,nascent as the
sound of music,an ephemeral creative
force within,no longer handcuffed
by language,where less is more.
Creative reflections from quiet corners,
secluded with our thoughts,perceptive
insights,butterfly moments catching
the fugitive of the commonplace.
From this lonely place,these musings
cry out as symbols of the soul complementing
each lament into a colour field of words.
From Retrospective a commonplace book 2009
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
It wasn't my first choice
To put all my stuff
In the shopping cart
I found
behind the Walmart
I don't even care
about the wonky wheel
Somehow
It gives it the perfect feel
I have never been
one of the ones
to go in a straight line
So I like it just fine
Some might think
I'm a bit strange
Trying to cling onto
some of my old life stuff
A small comfort on the street
that most people
don't think of as rough
Less is more
when you don't have enough
Giving up even that
is kinda tough
I'm not out to hurt anyone
I just want to be left alone
Instead someone called to complain
with their iPhone
"The guy with the shopping cart
is out there again"
They don't want to see inconvenient truths
So I'm left to feel the pain
my cart confiscated
all my stuff poured out
left in a pile in the rain.
Maybe someone
could give me a room
Instead of sweeping me away
with a bylaw broom
It wouldn't have to be a big room
just a small one to start
A bit larger than a shopping cart
Now that would be something
to warm more than my heart
A shopping cart initiative
Trade up to a space
I'd no longer be nameless
a smile on my face
A little is a lot
when mixed with grace
Everyone yes everyone
should have their own place
I wrote this piece after bylaw enforcement officers confiscated the shopping carts of some of our homeless population down town Kelowna.
I have found new ways to shape your view of the world
I am the last coin that drops into the cash till
I am the bank statement that makes you feel so ill
I am the busker on the corner who can rap and rhyme
I am the sirens call when you stock up on iodine
I am the flickering light of the bulb that will grow dim
I am the mother of nature telling you not to give in
I am the last drop drippin’ from the tap in the sink
I am the only thing that pulls you back from the brink
I am the blank screen on your useless device
I am the reason you won’t ever think twice
I am the neighbour asking you for bread and water
I am the lamb brought to your innocent slaughter
I am the the cat who knows so much more
I am the rising flood coming up through your floor
I am the poor little child who keeps asking why
I am the only answer that can ever satisfy
I am the dead tone ringing on your stupid phone
I am the reason why you do not feel alone
I am the refugee camping on your balcony
I am the true meaning of serendipity
I am the burning banknotes when you get cold
I am the empty shelf when everything is sold
I am the last shelter when you’re home is gone
I am the secrets deep inside you that you have known all along
I am the joker who cracks you up when you have no more fun
I am the rebels song that is ready to be sung
I am the beggar knocking hard on your front door
I am the reason why less is more
I am the beginning of your end and the end of your beginning
My name is Karma Love Kid. By me is pervaded all these universes.
Have I failed as a father? I asked myself.
As You questioned, with anger in your eyes.
And my heart is torn by your disregard,
For all the sacrifices I've made in your life.
You want to know what I've done for you? ,
What I've given, and why I've held back?,
But you don't see the late nights I worked,
Or the dreams I gave up to put you first.
You accuse me of not saving for your future,
Not working enough to give you what you want,
But I know that sometimes less is more,
And you are blind to all the blessings you've got.
I couldn't give you everything you asked for,
Because a parent must make tough choices too,
And I may not have succeeded in all my efforts,
But I hope that my love for you shines through.
So don't judge me by what you see,
Or by the things I didn't provide,
Instead, appreciate the memories we've shared,
And the love that always resides.
27/10/2023
“A meaningful life is not being rich, being popular, or being perfect. It’s about being real, being humble, being able to share ourselves and touch the lives of others.” - Unknown
It takes years to develop our persona
time to finetune our vision
then learn that being true to ourselves
is what truly matters most
Life struggles challenge us to evolve
through successes and failures
Defining ourselves is a process
that takes courage and stamina
We learn that relationships
is what’s most precious
We learn what has meaning
We learn that less is more
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
She paints freely
Whenever she is around
Then draws briefly
Either a smile or frown
She's good at building texture
Less is more where it counts
She paints by numbers
When she's out and about
She wears a smock
So there's less of a mess
But when it comes to abstract hearts
No promises are kept
Mistakes are hard to erase
When using an angry oil base
She paints by numbers
Helping to cut to the chase
She makes you feel
Life is but surreal
With you as her medium
Nailed to her easel
Using you as her landscape
In her brushstrokes of give and take
She paints by numbers
The only way she can keep life straight
How spectacular your crisp, cold colors,
Autumn dear, your bright & brilliant hues.
The fruition of success & failure, previous;
Culminated countenance of consequence.
Bold can be those leafy reflections from bud
To crown, the readiness to share the Fall.
It was your choice, Autumn dear, to steer
Toward perfection or depression, in trial.
Do you gather your bundle around your feet
Fretting and frenetic, leaves wet with despair, or
Do your colors gamble about like a wooly lamb,
Reminding the young of a rainbow’s halo?
Do you fear a latter season or let go your shapes
With holy anticipation, excitement at your fingertips?
Slow bustling of the wind, gentle shake of limbs;
Creative hustling, vivacity of freshness let loose.
Lovely your perspicacity and personality, sparkling
With a thick accent; nay, the dampening of dour
Spirits, fretting at losing your springiness, your green.
Wake up! Shake up your dreams! Youths love
Your rain, your jewel carpeting - they walk in
Your footsteps; enhance the next generation
Not with mildness, but with potential, using
Every bit of your wit and wile, your future hope.
Brighten those smiles with every shake of your head;
Even your baldness, crooked and ancient limbs.
Dear Autumn, you leave room for new sow & reap;
For coddled and courageous seed; newborn buds.
Autumn, less is more, more or less; nonsense
We don’t speak; no madness of spectral tongue.
Serendipity as pumpkins dance with flaming eyes,
As grand mas and pas blink back their yesteryears.
Three wholesome cheers for oaks, maples, even
Evergreens; for every tree that participates in life
And death on earth, rebirth, sentience, flirtation.
Live well, this latter season! Be tested! Thrive!
I’d be honoured, given my life, so grand -
My Obituary, drawn by my hand.
Who strutted in my shoes around the earth?
Precisely, I know best what my life’s worth!
First of all, by natural selection,
Life and I shared mutual affection.
Life loved me right til death and long before,
But I insist I madly loved her more.
Through strife and struggle we struck a fair deal -
She gives me grief but grants me time to heal.
She kindly pinky promised from the start -
My wealth flows from the bottom of my heart.
She swore to me that despite all tears shed
I’d laugh more than cry by the time I’m dead.
She urged to seize the day and have a ball,
She enticed me to take less and give all.
Less is more by far, she expressed out loud -
“No carryon to afterlife allowed”!
In sync we cried and laughed, but we had fun,
And morphed organically into one.
My earthly worth is my life’s full credit,
Obituary, no need to edit.
I’m glad this final tribute note above
written and signed, “To my Life! With love!”