Emirati Glitterati…sold their soul
All for an arty farty party so dull
Each troll got a very simple goal
Going for gold their Faustian role
Befriend astro knoll on pretend atoll
Look at me vanity but never a lull
Narcissist fantasy look like a doll
Maybe botox detox don't annul
Tax free captivity in goldfish bowl
Not like before well war takes its toll
Rakes get the shakes out of control
Save me plea on every single scroll
Fakes & flakes on the make must cull
Hard not to laugh at whole rigmarole
Tragic they chose their Arabic hellhole
Goodbye to Dubai magic back to Hull
Mull over becoming a prole on the dole
If there was a poll would say Tres Drole
Or on insular influencer peninsula "LOL"
There are no steel bars.
Just society's
Natural confines.
Birds fly off freely.
Quick fish swim away.
Men mull over their wrongs.
When you plan something spur of the moment,
At first you feel proud and in charge,
But the longer you think,
It will end in a blink;
Then the doubts stumble in and loom large.
I need time to mull over my choices,
Possibilities I can assess,
Weighing good points and bad,
What will make me feel glad
And eliminate what might cause stress.
Sometimes, though, I can’t make a decision
And the plans do not ever get made,
So perhaps if I pounce
I might get to renounce
Hesitations that make me afraid.
If the scale tips one way or another,
Either method can end up with doubt,
But at least if you book,
Then by hook or by crook,
An adventure you won’t do without.
If age is a constant then daydreams and nightmares
will cease to exist when the best of life is achieved
as maturity stabilizes at a level of immaturity favors
the innocence in confidence-mired ill-retrieved
those hopelessly enwrapped by rhetorical triggers
stemmed by the proposer amongst the ill-believed
'tis liken a heist at gunpoint to corner those regretters
to have brains (methinks) to cusps their mind deceived
and churned their souls to enter their relievers
and entertain the premature notion that they conceived
participants to ascertain the wherewithal of achievers
better or best consciously the line of inquiry perceived
to mull over and enter the zone as one of the leavers
to post with the best, to the winners be my best-wished.
Book of Matches and Phone Number
If you put a
book of matches and
your phone number on a
slip of
cardboard (lined and sickly yellow) on
your mantelshelf in relation to
each other they’ll
mull over the
best way to
stop forever the
fierce growl of
animals. And too
butcher glove stench
will go.
Sitting,
Alone and uninspired
Ruminating on my throne
Of the tired
Freezing,
My heater, broken and retired
In a building whose condemnation
Remains desired
Searching,
For some deeper, elaborated meaning
To a poem procrastinated
A cause for my demeaning
Sulking,
I lack muse and direction
I can only imagine the forthcoming drear
Of this poem’s lection
Drinking,
My hot chocolate keeps me company
As I mull over this poetry
And choose a word that rhymes only subtley
They stripped away my former self,
Reduced me to a mere shadow, for "maturity."
Before and after, I remained the same,
But different personas emerged, all in the name of "maturity."
No more colorful socks or shoes with playful straps,
I was told, "You're older now," by the voice of "maturity."
"Compose yourself," they said, "Your voice is too loud,
And your laughter is awkward," all due to "maturity."
"Look ahead, not behind," they advised,
"Your dreams are beautiful, but not for you,"
I was informed, at this stage called "maturity."
Before and after, I wondered, "Why?"
Same person, different facades, all attributed to "maturity."
Oh, "maturity," you've transformed me so,
But what's the path forward, I must know.
How to live within, not without,
How to embrace the truth, cast off doubt.
How to express, not withhold,
How to believe and feel, be bold.
How to return to the child within,
And learn, once again, to begin.
The fault, dear "maturity," lies not with me,
But with your heavy hand, you see.
Oh, "maturity," why change me so?
It's a question I'm left to ponder and mull over.
Do days become shorter?
The older we get
The hours fly by
Like a high-flying jet
we move slower
As slow as a snail
Our energy's lower
so why is it how
The days go past
So fast
Perhaps it's because
We are deep in thought,
And forget to do
The things we ought
As our minds
Leave responsibilities behind
As we dream of a world
Of a different kind
Time stands still
Or so it seems
While we mull over
Hopes and dreams
Of our future
And our past
Time is our enemy
Our clock is ticking, fast
Another day has gone,
We look around
What have we done
We have visited many places,
See old relatives smiling faces
Sung and danced in fields of corn
Experienced the joys of our newborn
Love and loss, laughter and tears
Giving support to each other through the years
Strained relationships and grief
Lasting friendships others brief
Passion and compassion seen
Like stories on a movie screen
We have to take the good and the bad
And feel happy and sometimes sad
Doesn't every day go fast,
When we view it through a looking glass.
Think deep and mull over your every sin,
Look unto mind's mirror, critical, keen
To wash your every single evil clean,
Confess, your true self’s confidence to win.
You are the plaintiff, you are the witness,
The defence lawyer are you, and the judge,
Harm there's none to come clean and to confess,
Need there be none to feign, nor ever fudge.
O beware still of that old impostor
That pretends to be what he never is,
To mislead you, he being an actor
Will pose: child at times or parent to please.
Have you ever noticed his hidden guilt?
Not once has he donned robes of an adult.
Yet, if nothing works, just come back to me,
Forget the world; come to me just to be.
_______________________________________
A man is torn apart by the machinations of his ego. His conscience is nigh but crushed. And then he hears a voice from his lady love: Forget all this pursuit of becoming; come to me and just be. The sonnet allows itself an extra couplet.
Sonnets | 02.03.06, revised Feb 2023 |
old couple
The evening is dark, and the street light tells
the leaves have fallen, except for two stalwarts holding on
but they will not be there at first light.
On our walk, we stop at a dress shop she admires
a colourful dress as an African, she likes lively attire
asks me if she still fits this dress; mull over this a bit and say
it will fit you snuggly.
She laughs fondly and tells me; I know nought about women’s clothes.
We have grown old together and dislike being apart
it worries me when she goes into the kitchen to make our evening meal
We are both aware of the sand, in time glass is nearly empty
for now, we are lovers in the strand of Nirvana’s echo.
I like to think of myself as a truth-seeker
Weighing all the angles, researching facts,
Forming my opinions with loads of caution
Succumbing to theories, I could never relax
Lately, I’ve noticed an upsurge in paranoia
Some people believing it’s all about over,
While I run fast as I can from such hysteria.
Preferring to bide my time, sane and sober
Thinking minds always mull over information
Consider the source, remember the rules
Make good use of trusted reference sources,
Being extremely mindful of various schools
Of thought, and seek reliable resources
“Someone said” is never sufficient, you see.
Nor am I unduly impressed by cultural bias
Leery about “Bible’s good enough for me!”
Rational thought earns a prevailing wage,
While running after foolishness tires me out
I seldom will go along with the current rage
And I don’t even pretend to have much clout
Remembering in the end, the truth wins out!
Written April 11, 2022
Show me God in a tunic and I will show you
a man with a simple love
Bring me to the home of my Father and forgive me,
while I suspend my disbelief ;
Allow me to mull over all the many facets of His mercy
until I find my own truth
Open the concealed gates of Faith and hold me ignorant ,
while I petition one request
Don't show me God in any concept, form, or formation
that isn't molded in pliable clay...
Show me a simple love with a simplified nucleus that shifts
attached to the hub of His navel
I am what I am and He is what He is, Mercy incarnate Deity
One smudge of my finger upon His tunic
and I will know, I am His and He is mine, " The Great I Am "
Sponsor Unseeking Seeker Jan 22, 2022
Contest Name Show me God
Like a hatchling from chrysalis,
I'm letting go.
I'm hoping you fly
So I can wish you a fall
great miles away from I.
Until I am worthy;
Love, I accept you free
I have not been the companion.
You, with all efforts to own
No, not love!
Like a prize to be won,
diamonds to possession,
No, not love!
And I never understood it then,
Colossal mull over on
Why I'm still trying!
So, until I deserve you back with me
Love, I set you free.
Humans have skeleton inside
But your bone structure is outside
Our soft tissue is much exposed
But yours is all tightly enclosed
Our skin loses our body heat
But your thick shell does insulate
We struggle with the climate change
But to you it is nothing strange
We eat stuff that has long been dead
But you eat living things instead
Our flying uses combustion
But your wings use respiration
Now I mull over all of this
You have it right and us amiss
The fossil record shows it clear
For three hundred million year
You did adapt not disappear
But we humans are nowhere near
Our species on the edge we fear
Have a conversation with me
Without the scent of last night's
wine in your breath,
Remove your spectacles of prejudice
before we begin to speak,
Let me not have to
mull over every word
Before they escape my lips,
Respond to my words
not to your screwed up thoughts
about me,
Talk to me
with your pulse rate below eighty
Pluck not words from my mouth
I never meant to release.
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