He's been a ruler you
can't see
like a measuring stick
in hiding
He's been hiding the fact
he can see
but would you believe
his findings?
They've been watching
his back intensely
while he fills their heads
succinctly
Being light years ahead
is empty
guess that's why
they assumed he's ditzy
Couldn't be further from facts
he's shifty
while he raises the bar
he's shifting
On a whole other plane
he's flying
into spaces that match
his timing
Snuffing the wick of a witch
that's scrying
trying to see where his light
is hiding
In the dark many eyes
are crying
in disbelief of results
from spying
He just gives of himself
as tithing
is as natural to him
as rhyming
As for all of the ties
& bindings
it actually helped to
release the shining
Look to see what the All
is designing
it's unique dare I say
inspiring
They say the temp of
the earth is rising
so why isn't he
like the rest perspiring?
. With the dreams of yesterday's journey vibrating through our path let us not forget that our party have taken us on roads of sadness and joy it's the measuring stick that defines our end. The memories of our ancestors is but a tool for choices today. Be the change maker and let it echoe into the hearts of the ones that dreams of better tomorrow. To be alive itself is a journey of discovery and our paths are filled with many obstacles. Let it not be a stumbling block for you to Excel. Grow,advance choss to be the one that not look back but build your destiny will pride so as to achieve your full potential that is waiting for you.. remember you decide your end result and you are the master of your destiny. Looking back should be the key to your decisions so don't fall into the trap of slavery to others dreams.
I have a friend who beats his chest
Who thinks he's tough, an ego blessed
He goes out clubbing, club in hand
Neanderthal romance, clubber lang.
He drinks banana daiquiris by the bowl
Experiments with chest wigs, an anthropoids soul
He apes around to attract a mate
A regular swinger awaiting his fate.
My mate's a primate, completely nuts
He likes jungle rap and scratching buts
He knows his trees and their Latin names
Defecates in bushes without any shame.
My mate's a primate, he's natures fan
A big white grin and an amazing arm span
He cracks nuts with feet, his party trick
Employs his member as a measuring stick.
Sure I compare myself to others
I can think that someone is funnier than me
That someone is happier
Or taller or prettier
Or skinnier or faster
Or smarter or more successful
Or ... anything
But there is still one thing they don’t have
My combination
The combination of characteristics that makes me, me
Nobody can take that away from me,
This isn’t a trade-up situation
It’s not the characteristics I have that
Make me better than another
That’s not the goal, there’s no measuring tool
What matters is the way I use my talents
And since there is no measuring stick,
Doesn’t that mean there isn’t
a grading system?
And if that’s the case, I’m not failing
And if I’m not failing, I think I’d rather spend my time loving myself than searching for reasons why I shouldn’t.
So the self-love doesn’t start when
I get the job I want or I clean my room
Or I start a relationship,
It starts now. Regardless of anything.
Because self-love isn’t attained by anything
Other than what already exists inside of me.
Our years are fated…
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special
Each moment becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow
Each new hour
The measuring stick
Of what would never occur
In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams
Last
To never grow into memories
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious
As the deceptive future
—steals tomorrow from today
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
A mind not filled up is just empty space
I'll decorate mine to stay in life's race
With silly string so I'm not too stoic
And badge of courage to help be heroic
A rainbow of colors when I'm feeling just blue
For my wife, some thick paste to stay stuck on you
A bright red heart to remember to love
Wrapped up in mercy that fits like a glove
A Labrador puppy will teach me affection
A compass implanted to show me direction
Scents that are common so I don't be a fool
And measuring stick to follow the rules
Some mathematical facts to say what is true
A river of patience when I don't have a clue
A funny face clown for acting a ham
And people who love me just as I am
So fill up your mind with whatever your taste
A brain not decorated is such a big waste
Our years are fated….
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special,
Each minute becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow,
Each new hour
Becoming the measuring stick
Of what would never occur
In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams
Last
To never grow into memories,
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious,
As the deceptive future
Steals tomorrow from today
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Responsibility
A question of burden:
imagining a future
where responsibility falls..
Light or heavy
is the measuring stick
which swings at
us all..
There is variation:
light to one
heavy to another..
These are perceptions
which result from
imagining departure
from our
peace just now..
However..might we
observe these departures
from our peaceful place
allowing their departure
within our peace...?
I pick them up to examine, one by one,
Those faraway days that now mesmerize me,
Like long-lost treasures hidden deep in the sea.
Could it be that my days are finally done?
Just yesterday, when life had barely begun,
Young and bored, I dreamed that in time I'd be free;
But now, mired in remembrance, where is the key
To unlock the past's iron grasp? There is none.
Hands clasped on my chest, I measure time gone by
In days, months and years, but the tally's the same,
Whatever the size of the measuring stick.
Though I knew long ago the years would fly by,
Time's wind blew right through me, and left as it came,
For life’s just a bubble that death will soon prick.
Beyond my consciousness,
in stark relief
A place beyond reason,
all spirits unleash
Beyond my awareness,
I inherit the wind
Each breath I blow inward,
new endings begin
Religion, a concept,
that God can’t abide
Dogma a pretense,
where idolaters hide
In my dreams there’s a voice,
that comes unannounced
Its structure on fire,
new words unpronounced
Time but a weapon,
to use on the weak
Its measuring stick,
to never complete
One question—one answer,
for all that transpires
In primacy wrapped,
no logic hard wired
The years I’d spent looking,
those moments I’d waste
When deep from inside,
with subliminal grace
The great Crazy Horse calls,
chanting words once unknown
“Your vision has freed you,
—its voice now your own”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Gentle power rises from the west mad prairie like settlement
Driven as a demon from above the mountain grays discontent
City dwellers know this as cumulonimbus low altitude weather
Traveling their way at 10 feet per second by the satellite projection
Commencing surface to 6,500 feet up or better or so they say or let on
Variables here suggest wind speeds come on quickly
Heavy precipitation drinks up the sun in low lands down
The better to get wet with high level winds if sanity prevails
Influenced by no one in particular on the solar ecliptic measuring stick
One drip at at a time or drop if you prefer or please
Out comes the sun
It knows what to do
Reflections
Reflecting upon – it is a dangerous game for one to play
for it leads to flawed judgements – unreasonable expectations
for expectations are seldom realizes or met by others.
Expectations are difficult to live up to, by others or by ones self.
Images projected, those reflections are often built upon fantasies,
illusions, delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to a reality.
Personal history is just that – personal – and not a measuring stick
by which to quantify, see, judge, to comprehend what is here and now
nor is it the mirror by which to bring forward – into the future.
Judge not but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, it’s past, not the story upon which to create – today.
Today is all we have !, yesterday is gone !, - tomorrow is promised to no one !
B. J. “A” 2
January 12th 2007
What is Faith?
Faith is a cool droplet of water on a hot summer day
Faith is a rainbow in the middle of the darkness
Faith is the hope of a moment that hasn't come to be
Faith is the substance of my Lord
For when is it that we grow the closest to our Father?
Is it at the beginning of a joyous time of praise?
Or is it at the end of a difficult time?
I say faith is the greatest measuring stick of our love for Father
It is like a bubbling oasis in the middle of the desert
What is it that you are hoping for?
Send your petitions to the King of Kings
And He will grant your heart’s desires according to His will
Hope is the substance of things unseen
Hope is the center of His will
Gwendolen Rix
8-5-14
I scramble up the jagged rocks,
on my way to the peak of this mountain top.
A self-given measuring stick.
Toppling back, I fear I will fall.
Barely hanging onto this rock.
Hardly enough strength to carry on.
Bruised.
Broken.
Beaten down.
A gaping hole of nothing opens under me,
as I stare below me.
Reaching, blindly seeking for the next foothold.
Scraping my way,
my hands feel like they are bloody and raw.
Trying to find my way to the top of that
formidable mountain top.
Just to see if I measure up!
GypsyofEssence
Hello, and thanks for coming
Please come in and take a seat
It’s nice to get familiar
With each of you I’m supposed to meet
I know I was just born yesterday
But that doesn’t mean I am naive
And I welcome the chance to adjust some of you
Before the maternity ward I leave
I know most of you are generated
By my parental units, of course
And some of you through society
And cultural norms will be enforced
But please respect me as an individual
With unique talents and some faults
Don’t paint me into corners
Don’t make my freedom pay the costs
Expectations can be a burden
As well as a measuring stick
My journey will be challenging enough
Without too many of you interfering with it
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