A thought comes into my mind
lingers there builds in time
So I begin to jot it down
just a thought not so profound
Where will it lead
could it become poetry
Stop thinking it let the mind flow
release thoughts into words sow
rhyming comes naturally to me
but a rhyme it does not have to be
Read it, read it out loud
is it any good somehow
They are thoughts from my head
are they a poem to be read
not necessarily true of me
not a lie meant to be
thoughts to poems, poems from thoughts
should I not or maybe I ought
Do it how it gets done
writing poems with a little fun.
DISTANT CANDLES *
We are all distant candles-not necessarily by choice
And not necessarily involuntarily- it varies from person
And usually by circumstances although some circumstances
Are of our own making and shaking depending on reason which
Isn’t often treason
We and our life mates are distant candles not knowing
Where our mates are mates are until we find them or
The find us- the answers are out there and perhaps unheeded
Undiscovered and unrealized but we need to do more than reach
Out for who we know not
We distant candles continue to keep our flames going for how long
We know not but some feel as if they should extinguish theirs right away
and don’t want to be swayed- no matter what our views and open thoughts may be
We are distant candles until find the candles for which we long to find- we are distant
Candles until we link
* The Title poem.
You know, poetry can be fun too --
not all need be melancholy blue.
Not all need be broken-heart,
brain surgery trying to restore
a logical missing part –
destabilizing like an ingrown fart (whatever).
With common aches we need
to break. Why not also poetry, for goodness
sake?! Light verse is not necessarily
better nor worse. Not all poetry
need roll like a hearse. Poetry can
be happy and sad – So, for this
day I play – from sad I seek world
redemption I pray! Smile for self as well as
for God I say!
I have found that
Love requires more than
4 letters --
Though pure is not complex
Sometimes less of greater value
Body-weight is about size obviously
While not necessarily a measure of
Content – the human heart an imperfect
Perfect example
Sweating buckets in the hot seat, losing the ability to buffer the spaces in-between.
Yet sweating profusely can help you come back fully healed.
However what you are chasing is much further away, and what is chasing you feels much closer.
Like in any race the focus is always on the lead car.
Sending them best wishes and a lot more of hidden evil eyes.
Splash boom, dashed into a spin-out.
Spinning out does not necessarily mean to crash and burn.
Overshooting the corner forces you to reset/rest to gain back control.
Just coasting on the low fumes of synchronicities.
Stress must played in this chaotic times or could just be scrapped ahead in-time.
Just as the chaotic race of life, use that transmuting heat to purify.
Do you think the harder you push the pedal increases the chances to be showered more petals?
Theses small talks echo sounds so sweets, with the upgrades of my venturi tunnels.
I see Vishnu on a car plate and on the tv show, edging me to top gear manually to greater higher performance.
All positive qualities are attributes of love,
Patience, forbearance, generosity, kindness;
The willingness to accept others
For simply who they are
And not necessarily
What we want them to be.
(3/15/26)
I see life
through different eyes
than you.
The colors of my Universe
are different from yours.
Therefore,
the words created
from my thoughts are
Unique,
not necessarily better,
just Unique.
I make the listener
inhale the sweet fragrance
of truth,
when I write about life,
and I can tap
into the untouched
depths of the soul,
to reveal hidden emotions,
which a person never
knew existed,
when I write about love.
I see life
through different eyes
than you.
The colors of my Universe
are different from yours.
Therefore,
the words created
from my thoughts are
Unique,
not necessarily better,
just Unique.
My mission is to educate,
enlighten,
and harmonize love
with spirit,
life with reality,
one life at a time.
Understand...
So many lives lived
are unsubstantial
too many conversations
inconsequential
lifetimes of potential
unfulfilled
hopes dreams ambitions
killed
days wasted
nighttimes too
some held down by others
not necessarily their betters
accepting unquestioning
living a life in mental fetters
prisoners or prey
of the powers in play
Mountains were made for poets --
for dramtic scales and harrowing descents. For
lofty subjects and deeper, fumarole vents -- many
are volcanic you know. Some active,
others sleeping, as those creative dry-spells~
no word-glows with the ashes. When carefully
placing my dots and dashes, counting often unruly
syllables, contemplating scriptor's tempting easy-rhymes,
word-candy, for poetic sound-effects, reminded I am of canned
laughter, not needed when Saturday Night
Live was yet funny. Had real entertainment substance.
My first book of mountains admittedly needed
more height, did not adhere to principals of careful oversight.
Honesty with self, and stacks of rejections have been
my maturing lifts and refining propellers. Don't give up. Lots
of knowlegeable-beans and more spicy life-seasoning has helped fuel my
linguistic evacuation. As Poe may have also been implying
when he said, what we "see and seem", do not necessarily equate
to a publisher's eclectic ream. What do they know anyway?:)
‘Parsimonious’ is
not necessarily odious
Though not considered felonious
it certainly is not melodious
Call it what it is ~ inharmonious
Eyes compete to compensate beauty,
Beyond pleasure of reasonable duty.
Money competes to compensate value,
Before time sets another price anew...
Pen competes to compensate book...
Above muse running minds unhook.
Eraser competes to compensate error,
Against stake of consequence's terror.
Mind competes to compensate brain,
Holding unto wisdom for huge gain.
Thinking competes to compensate judgement,
Having checked through for proper assessment.
Voice competes to compensate ears,
To be calm of sweet words foaming cheers!
Tongue competes to compensate understanding,
Towards convincing points so outstanding.
Seat competes to compensate buttocks,
Cum comfort not necessarily quite deluxe.
Bed competes to compensate spinal cord,
Care sets free unlike one in the hospital's ward.
Women compete to compensate survival,
Vigilant enough of approaching rival.
Men compete to compensate growth,
Virtually for both also marriage's oath.
Competition drives value-
To compensate focus guide
And fight forces turning tide,
Against what desires pursue...
You Don’t Care
About My Feelings.
You Care About What
A NORMAL Person's
Feelings SHOULD Be...
In What You Imagine
You Know Are The
Absolute Circumstances
A Person Would NORMALLY
Face, From The Evidence
You're Aware Of, Sort Of
Biased By The Strength
Parameters A NORMAL
Person Would Have,
But NOT Necessarily
Your Own Weaknesses
Which You Know Are
Unique To You.
And Personal Factors
And Biases, And Weakened
Judgement Impressed By
Trauma, And Choices Made
By Those You Idolize, And
So Many Sub-Routine
Details I Am Neglecting
And/Or Are Unaware Of.
But You Don’t Care
About MY Feelings.
-Gray Squirrel
10-03-2025
(“The Night Sky”, 2014, original oil)
Lila, at Play
The world conforms to the wishes of those in it
Not necessarily to what we want
But certainly to what we need
Mirror-like in reflecting all we bring
Yielding to all we project.
And so cultures throughout history
Create their own world view paradigms
For the next to build on
Or tear down.
The modern world is still the age of reason
Ruled by logic and mechanical processes,
But it hasn’t always been so
And it won’t always be so.
The world as it is
Conforms, mechanically or playfully
And that depends on us.
I don’t know about you,
But all things being equal,
I’d rather live in a playful world,
Not one devoid of reason
And immersed in magic and mystery,
But one in playful balance.
Where plants can talk and animals listen
Where sunlight heals and sings
Its ancient song
Weaving lattice bridges
To distant stars
Across time and space, mind and matter,
Linking then and now, us and them
Together.
(9/14/25)
A poem is an artform –
well, not always
A poem is an idea –
hmm, not necessarily
A poem is all rhythm and rhyme
Ha! What about ‘free verse’
A poem is a thing of beauty
--though some are pretty ugly
A poem is a window to the writer’s soul
--though not to Shakespeare’s, whoever he was…
O, A poem is what’s just been written
Whoever thinks he can explain one
~ that person’s got to be kiddin’
When you believe in yourself you can't lose
No approval needed to do as you choose
If they don't like it thats fine because you do
Whatever you do is not necessarily for their view
You don't perform actions to get their attention
Be your own fan with no need to be mentioned
The highest rank ever reached is the one you set
Making your own standards as high as it can get
Try doing things that makes a deep impression
Impressions on yourself from your own expressions
Comparing yourself to others is one way to fail
Do all things in such a way that no one can tell
Opinions can be cherished but not what you need
Belief in yourself is the reason you succeed.
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