Long Short sighted Poems
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Driving in sought direction, a new desire visible
Slick road delivers destined distance, crystal gleam
Wetness formed by years old tears, bidding for
Proximity begged obligation, historic tenuous team
Mother does his washing, aged forty dependant
Criticises his seldom made choices for connection
Coddling lacerates love's potential, fear fettered
Prods using paucity, short sighted home protection
Puncture of gilded needles harass prone hands
Punishing silver artillery pummels vulnerable palms
Window low limb conveys wrath of rain's chants
Demands from conflicted agendas tug rugged arms
20th January
- at one's peril to become involved with a man
whose Mother or ex wife does his house work
This morning is dangerously close to truth.
The sunlight is in bold print,
the figurative blocked out in black and white.
The under-brain
(that sleepy chameleon with diamond eyes),
blinks at a high-rise concrete reality,
eschews poetry for a stark reportage.
The summer blooms and hummingbirds
are not wooden, yet their picturesque
mien and dress
belong in a less brazen realism.
Nothing much flies in more subjective skies.
Beneath an introspective sea
just a few fanciful thought-threads
dangle loosely from misty metaphyseal squids.
The mind must turn to arcane myths
for unobjectified mysticism,
however a short-sighted ground hog
dismisses these inner reflections
as it eats an existential
bright red geranium.
______________________________
God who can see the large picture of our lives does what is good for us. But we mortals have no patience. Something goes wrong against our wish and we resort to whining. This piece set in quatrains dwells on such a short-sighted act of men.
______________________
Leave us Lord, let us be,
Helpless have ye left us at life’s mid-sea--
Earth greets us with her gravity,
Leave us Lord, let us be.
Just let us do what we do with our faith,
We scarce what your sermon sayeth
In this cycle of life and death
In this world of limited breath.
Leave us to our what-so fate,
Tempt not with heaven’s ajar gate,
With destiny let’s have our date,
Leave us Lord, it’s too late.
Let us our own battles fight,
No use now for the light of new insight,
If lost, we’ll find our way from blight,
Leave us Lord to our light.
__________________________
Musings | 08.05.2026 | death, God, grievance/grief, faith, quatrain
unrhymed quintets
Short-sighted sorts are better left unsaid;
but I’ll let you in on what I mean;
near-sighted neighbors are just plain nosy.
At close range they can read the bottom line.
Blind-sighted beings must guess at what's there.
Far-sighted folks focus on distance
and can see the buds on the trees
in the front yard from the back forty.
Short-sighted sorts, well I don't want to say;
Fore-sighted fellows can see ahead what is not.
Know-sighted kindred? rudely arrogant
looking down their long noses at others.
You-sighted yahooes? they’re somewhat selfish.
Insighted icons claim they see through you;
short-sighted sorts? self-explanatory.
written 28 April, 2016
Where are the children gone?
Where are the children gone ?
with their years of childish ways,
those precious years, so cherished,
now days, vanished in infants haze.
These days, they may look quite young,
polluted-not by disease, but by phone,
acquired at three, or five years old,
a digital highwayman, childhood flown.
Supplied by short sighted lead on adults,
to follow the trend, manipulated by media,
into the ether vanish the child they knew,
while mums and dads, walk in hypnopedia.
Where are the kiddies ? And childish games,
Where is the teared laughter in ring of roses,
Where are your children gone ? Lost in an app,
In war games, and ***** abuse, not Mams lap
is time for the people
I want to talk to someone
yes out there somewhere
I know life is unbearable
I want to know
what is wrong with mankind
are we humans here
to be unhuman
no some one should tell me
why we cant have peace
yes why we can't live as human
or is humanity forbidden today
is time for the people
some one please tell me
are we born to live a while
and die so quickly in our ignorance
are we that short sighted
that all we care are not what we need
are we so fooled that
we can't even live to live in love
what are we up to
no I need someone to explain this
where are we heading to
with all this vapours and rumours
of wars
if this is civilisation
then human are madly insane
is time for the people
what could be more worst
when we turn a beautiful world
to a jungle of wild human animals
what is the worth of living
when we live to live in hardship
I guess is time we start thinking
I know this thinking process
will Benefit us
if we are not ignorance of the truth
it hurts to see how too many souls
are hungry and in abject poverty
it hurts to go sleep hungry
every night in midst of plenty globally
it hurts when darkness is in trend
over our good
is time for the people
to every leader world wide
as a youth from the third world
I write this poem with
an heavy clear heart
where all your hard ship
creates words like now you read
I chant change oh change your ways
we the People we the citizens
of this planet are tired
we need all leader to ask themselves
just this one question
what could we do
with out the people
a simple question
The aftermath of climate change will last;
global warming will be devastating.
Worldwide, ocean waters are rising fast
while short-sighted lies keep circulating—
as islands sink into the shadowed past.
Coastal cities contemplate building walls,
but I'm afraid it's too little, too late.
Leaders will falter as disaster falls,
locked in committees to bully debate
drastic options while the government stalls.
Once the rain ceases irrigating crops,
millions of people will face starvation.
Famine will strip the shelves in all the shops,
and worldwide trade will slow to stagnation
once the global financial market flops.
Mass immigration will not be allowed;
any shred of decency will be lost.
Armies will be deployed to cull the crowd;
borders will be guarded at any cost,
and our world might end in a mushroom cloud.
another finger on the trigger
the world has gone wild
we are no longer humans
but beasts in human flesh
if not let some one explain
why this too many hips of murders
yet we party like all is all good
the world is in a state of madness
we are no longer humans
we have turn the good
so ugly
we have turn murder to
a normal thing
so again and again
so were out there
their is always a new
gunshot
another new human
gun down by
another finger on the trigger
another finger on the trigger
the world is full of blood shed
even the moon Cry's out
for our calamity
the suns of life
can't dry the bloods of
the innocent on the
peaceful ground any longer
the rainbow of peace
keep calling for humanity
yet the insanity of man
keep murdering the innocent
on a daily blood day light
the world has failed humanity
no wonder madness is a new
trends on every streets
cos the insanity of men
are obvious in every new sunset
the calamity are never new
before the moon
so always their is
another finger on the trigger
another finger on the trigger
the world is growing with lies
were illusion is the moto
of all we believed that is
if our good
is sad that some get to realise
but not strong enough
to carry on
so they chose a short cut
to end this world of torture
and that ends up again with
with a gun point at the head by
another finger on the trigger
another hand on the trigger
the world is still growing
in destruction
when will we all weak up
to a new ways
cos this civilisation are not
in line with moral values
we always protect to devalue
another
we always gave to take
from the weak
the humans of now
are too short sighted
to divinity
even doe we talk
and behave like
we know God
yet our reality is sow
and bleeds too many
deaths for nothing
we are out if patience
we are always in a hurry
we can't stand to challenge
what we curse any longer
so so many never mind
to end their misery
so quick always with
another hand on the trigger
We call ourselves the United States of America but that name seems a bit short-sighted
Yes, it’s true, we are made up of 50 states…but we are anything but united.
It seems we can’t agree on anything anymore…too much misinformation…too many lies.
We have forgotten how to listen to one another…forgotten how to compromise.
The founders of our constitution, knowing they didn’t all agree, wrote into their plan
not that we would be a perfect union…but the most perfect union that we can.
Case in point:
When they wrote and signed the constitution there was not one woman in the crowd.
Women running our government? Well, that just could not be allowed!
It appears that what women had to say back then…didn’t matter very much.
I wonder what our country would be like if the constitution had a woman’s touch?
Another case in point:
Thomas Jefferson and George Washington who helped the flag of freedom wave,
who agreed that all men are created equal…each of them owned slaves.
These two founding fathers…who strived to make our country strong
did not understand back then…that owning another person could be wrong!
Still our founding fathers understood that government is a give and take exchange…
that our constitution needs to be altered…as our country…as we the people change,
And though they certainly were not perfect…they were thinkers…they were wise.
for they knew the only way to stand united…was to stand together in compromise.
They knew we’d never be a perfect union but hoped we’d do whatever it takes
to change when we needed to change…and to learn from our mistakes.
Fast forward 244 years…we are not a country with one goal, one hope…one heart.
Hate has driven a wedge between we the people…
and we the people have allowed that hate to tear our country apart.
Hate will never be the answer…never!
If we the people can’t find a way to douse it’s flame…
a way to form a more perfect union…
then I suggest…we change our name.
Zealot of the crazy paving or pavement.
To the short-sighted pensioner a pointless pettifog.
Stoic though not reckless in staccato-like stride.
Cane waving in a fervent frosty, sweep.
Age is neither plight nor hindrance only skewed perception.
Rendez-vous in a roundabout place to spite dementia.
Window flung open by grey haired neighbour without gumption.
Nosey gossip at the cutting edge of rumour.
Condescension from my own breed.
Cheerful wave from care free youth on bike.
Wind borne words of kindness make the early morning chill seem less harrowing.
Tread marks of a different kind await unless we ward them off with stout forbearance.
Intuition, my one and only compass at this point.
At every point.
Be alert.
Mind the icy patch astride the curb.
Ah, there she is, her wrinkled outline in feint colour.
Madam's crutches like my cane, a badge of honour.
Soul mate of a certain vintage.
A date with time