Long Splitting hairs Poems
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A little smile delights my soul
A little money appreciates my life
A little love achieves my goal
A little care flatters my wife
Strengthening my resolve to perform better
Duties and responsibilities I bear
In my role as family pace and trend setter
In spite of mundane outfit and suit I wear
As through lifetime I educate siblings
Endeavouring to develop their potential
To scale heights, to break through glass ceilings
Beyond the conventional and the unintentional
As I elect and select to reflect on reasons why
At crossroads complications sometimes arise
To conflate faith and pride in minds of the lie
Lost in a labyrinth where to no surprise
Confusion and division estrange sinners from thinners
In the midst of splitting hairs and spreading fears
Among the lost sheep who deem it unfit to hobnob with cleaners
Immersed in verses of gossip as on my face tears
Roll down, fall on my chest in my quest
Into well intended missions that fall by the wayside
Too low for zero as I invest efforts to test
Waters in altars of misconception and prejudice propelled by personal pride
Gone too far to dilute and denigrate the sanctity
The salvation mission entails among fishers of men
Who appreciate Jesus didn’t die on the cross to pronounce sinners guilty
But to save humankind and I from the odious omen
Misguided human lips with little knowledge utter
As they wallow in a sea of benighted bigotry
Where they play God and pronounce themselves better than the sinner in the gutter
Who pleads at the feet of Jesus to send her providential poetry
To open human eyes to tenets Christianity holds dear
Not because I say so or I should denounce the new millennium Pharisee
Whose grasp of the biblical truth swims in turbid unclear
Seas of ignorance where the blind and the benighted can’t see
Limitations and diminutions brought about by little knowledge
Raised to a puny pedestal
Wreaks havoc as it conflates sewage and sacrilege
To decelerate a hallowed harvest and cause it to stall.
Mary knew John before you
Who knew Jane before Sam
Obviously there was Sally, Melvin and Tim
The Tim who wore glasses
Since the other Tim did not
The brother of Mary, who's name escapes me
Visited John's mother yesterday with Tim
Mom was not in so they left together
A day like no other day is a day without mom
Dad lived in Spain without mom
Sally and Melvin were not invited as well
Someone who spoke Spanish stayed behind
Juanita or Junia or something like that explained
Names are too long and forgettable in Spain
Sister never heard of Mary before John arrived
Jane didn't care for money only property
Ben came before her birth, before the time of Pan
According to legend, Ben should have never been born
Lost pagans and anti-biblical names prevailed with him
Ben was assigned an alternate name, that would be Tim
Not the Tim with or without glasses but another
Tim 3 will do for now as a designated nomenclature
To avoid confusion, there was Mary, first executrix
John came second, than Sam, then Melvin, Tim 1
Tim 2, Tim 3, (a/k/a Ben) and so on down the loins of lineage
Mistakes abounded with each generation
Mary's brother remains a mystery to this day
Of all the signatures of people, witnesses and sources
The will would be challenged not by names but faces
Ben was too complicated for lawyers
Too confusing to absorb
Tim 3 would have to sign for family members
John and Mary but not Sam or dad or mom
(Out of town forever) Amended
They are found on pages five through ten
Which will remain unmentioned here
Since they came before the time of Pan as well
Remember to name the baby something different
Something other than Tim or Ben when dividing land
Splitting hairs on who is there and what is fare
When time comes around again to settle
When names escape you
When dividing real estate
Remember who you are
Thank God you are not them
Cliche Heaven
Be it as it may I'll try my hand at some clichés
and address the elephant in the room soon when pigs fly.
It’s a win- win situation, put your game face on, work the crowd
as we wrap our heads around comparing apples to orange.
We are all data driven, with an ace in the hole, stick a sock in it
while stepping up to the plate and peeling back the onion
and easily hit it out of the ballpark with a world of hurt.
Be my team player, run with this, my agent of change
but don’t throw me under the bus as you think outside the box.
We can touch base later seeing where the rubber meets the road
and put boots on the ground, a perfect storm, deal with it.
Here’s my two cents, if it works I'll go off the beaten path
driving route 66 on the road not taken when it’s up for grabs,
and taking a walk in the sun, learning the new math.
That said, don’t put me out to pasture, wait for it,
there’s no sign of my slowing down, its going viral.
These are the signs of the times, take the bull by its horns,
It’s a brave new tomorrow and all bets are off.
Don’t force my hand to be up close and personal
I’m a rebel without a cause and to die for.
Don’t get bent out of shape raising the bar in the winds of change
There’s something for everyone, just another babe in the woods.
Stay tuned, like, duh, as a matter of fact, at the end of the day,
it’s a last ditch effort as you live and learn the luck of the draw.
Pay it forward, that’s the ticket, give and take, get a wake up call,
same song and dance, say what you will, you’re as sharp as a tack.
It’s all smoke and mirrors, just splitting hairs to reinvent the wheel
and walk the red carpet for a quick buck to pay as you go
Heaven help us,
I believe there's an app for that.
So yo’ farm masters
got yo’ phat attractive features
listed on public notice,
at da commodity trading display — touting you as
one fine looking hoofed creature
State Fairs have long been
4-H 401k
good capital investment forays
Sow auctions are traditional;
if you got da right beauty parts,
you gonna be quickly sold
Now you bemoan yo’ penned fate,
saying a pig’s life is sow State unFair
Slaving in da muck,
never so much as gittin’ a bacon sniff
of a hard-earned buck
But you got fed fo’ free,
fattened up Miss Piggy royally
Now you gon be
Jabba Hutt gut sold sow easily
Did you think you were gon git let go,
pork-n-bean NDA free?
How gullible can a show oinker be
Da secret sauce dat dey use on
pretty pork chops like you,
belongs exclusively to da company
Other turkey-toe, sow oink clucks
gobble up
the ol’ company sales pitch line:
Tellin’ the little piglets,
when dey git grown, dey won’t be on
da choppin’ block,
squealin’, pinned down supine
So don’t invest yo’ short shelf life,
pork rind grind savings
Buying dem baby back stock options,
will later have you bottle crying
‘Cause it’s all just fatback lying
Yo’ turn’s coming soon
at da auction turnstile
Sow strut yo’ peacock best
in yo’ dainty, apron dress
You and yo’ bruh’s best bet
is ta be safely picked
as prize breeders on the chitling set
Other than dat,
we all know
life is sow State unFair
But, when you git gov’ment approved
for da new fed’ral slaughterhouse rules
Oinking ‘bout pig sty conditions,
is just splitting hairs
For when the blade swings low ...
slice singing a ham bone tune, oh so true
You gon know fo’ sho’
da true ooman meaning
of dat beheaded feeling —
dis life just ain’t fair sour sow belly blues
Death is dead
Once more
Where they stole the boots off the leftovers
before they buried them after war
So as to keep the noise of trampling
dead feet down
Waste not want not they don't need them
anymore where they are going or will
eventually end up stuck
Said the Crow to the raindrop
Splitting hairs on the reapers scythe
So stop and take one final last look at
The Sun the Stars and our Moon
Falling from the ailing sky horizon afterglow
As they fade ever gray into shadowed black
And take the chance to tell that certain
someone and utter the word love
To they who taught you what it actually meant
and true definition felt without fear of rejection
or being corrected
Before feeling the menacing presence of
the reaper at your back
Crying underneath his chilling breath
As back and back we further regress
To whence from that we came
As finally with eyes wide open
All forms of light and life
Are slowly taken stolen extinguished forever
And dissipate like celestial graveyards
One after one
Until there are
None
At all left
But
The
One and only
Real true God remains
To sift through the embers
Of his greatest love lost failed creation
We ourselves destroyed in vanities namesake
For no other reason apart from to show and prove
We could and can
So we did
Conflict is inevitable
In any meaningful relationship.
It's okay to disagree.
It's okay to want different things.
No two people are exactly the same.
No matter how deeply in love
And happy a couple is,
Both are bound to be out of sync
In terms of needs and wants
Every now and then.
Conflict is inevitable
In any meaningful relationship.
Even couples with decades
Of marital bliss have spats
Once in a blue moon.
This is common knowledge.
It's impossible to be
On the same wavelength all the time.
Even longtime lovers have different fears,
Values, tastes and preferences.
Conflict is inevitable
In any meaningful relationship.
Opinions differ; rather than
Splitting hairs ad-nauseum,
It's better to brainstorm a solution.
And it's okay to arrive at an impasse.
Avoid going down the rabbit hole
Of blaming, belittling, guilt-tripping,
And threats. For the sake of peace,
Simply agree to disagree,
And everybody wins!
Date written: 12/10/2021
What says the silence between us now
With dour acoustical deadness?
Roaring waves of invisible vagrancy,
Breaking down the white rock transparency
Heavy and burdened with leadenness.
And all that is unspoken screams
With clinical padded-cell madness,
Hissing clues in a deafening vacancy
Falling flat as a pancake melody
With an albatross-fated sadness.
What says the silence between us now
With love raped a dialogue soundless?
Splitting hairs with a dumb antipathy,
Lit up like a cross-wired Christmas tree
With its circuitry spitting and groundless.
And whatever decays behind us breathes
With lungs cursed of punctured tissue
Telling tales of an undying chemistry,
With a quick-fire wit and repartee
You and I left the lonely issue.
What says the silence between us now
With our feelings insidious as cancer?
Hung upon a mutual reticency,
What means it to you, what means it to me?
Even God can't conceive of an answer.
Like a tree with a broken limb
This broken branch begins to bend,
Like the splitting hairs caught in a comb
I sensed the void on my own
I look and seek deep in my soul
In hopes to find something to console
Dull and deep is its shaded abyss
For there is nothing in its mist
But dust and spirits, of the disappearing
For I am the one that has become weary.
The void I walk is very deep
Who knew these hills could be so steep.
However, I am who is broken
Yet, everyone wants a token.
Thinking they have givin me something
When in turn they have provided nothing.
I feel the pain of my psychosis,
For my mind has become atrocious.
The nullness and the empty space,
I knew would win the race
But there is nothing more
For I have become
Null &Void
Passionless lies turns to unmoved bigots thoughts
with emotionless half arsed hearts consumed by hate
splitting hairs we all know fact from fiction
Try to claim killing the unborn is care giving
then this retro bias claims a man has no right to speak
equality speaks from the soul without division
Where each son has a mother who protects who
when lines are drawn in the sand this is not about gender
This is not about women having the right to kill
Or even twisted sinners of men who live on cloud coo coo
Time waits on no man or woman to love and cherish each living heartbeat
we are brothers and sisters of the one God
His words have impact in those whom truly believe
("The Longest Journey", 2020, original encaustic)
Beyond Words, A Rose By Any Other Name…
Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout it
because it, is all there is.
Like there is but one sun
everyone sees and is extolling.
Even when they’re pointing at the moon
it’s still just Sun’s light
reflecting on her face.
Yet still people fuss and fight
splitting hairs all through the night…
But meanwhile Life goes on,
and if you want to see
the hand of God at work
look no further than the play of children,
or musicians, grooving with each other,
riding waves of wordless bliss,
swirling dancers in their wake.
Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout it
after all, what more is there to say?
(1/28/24)