Her apartment house was shaped like a tall woman’s boot.
I could see why she chose to live there, it did in fact suit.
Her disposition, her opinions, her ideals and her attitude.
Being inside with her, reading, put me into a powerful mood.
Women power forever! My assertive, opinionate Aunt Bertie said.
She had the attitude of Rosie the Riveter firmly stashed in her head.
I inherited her apartment, although my name is not Francine, but Fred.
The only man to live here. With the women’s antics, my face is usually red.
Let Them Judge You
When you stand up and speak for the things you believe,
Or you show what you feel; wear your heart on your sleeve.
When your thoughts and opinions don’t follow the crowd,
And you’re brutally honest and say it out loud…
Let them judge you.
When you work extra hours for no extra pay,
To ensure the job’s done by the end of the day.
When you cover a colleague who’s often off sick,
Or tolerate bosses who get on your wick…
Let them judge you.
When you finally snap cos it’s all got too tough,
And you throw in the towel and shout, “I’ve had enough!”
When you storm off and leave everyone in a daze,
Muttering and commenting about your odd ways…
Let them judge you.
Let them judge and opinionate, gossip and label.
Let them do everything better than you, if they’re able.
Let them build you up, put you down, doubt your ability.
Let them chatter and natter with puerile hostility…
Let them judge you.
You know who you are, for greater or lesser.
No need to retort or to be the aggressor.
Their thoughts, words and deeds will judge them in turn.
They are feeble, and immature and not your concern.
Let there be no mistake about the West and the South.
Perhaps with the exception of San Francisco, where
there is a lifting of the fog by noon, in the West
Coastal Region, there is a lot of snifting the air
for smoke and smog. And the lack of rain is
causing a lot of Western pain. The prayer
warriors are praying FOR rain. The prayer
warriors are also praying AGAINST fires.
I'm neither a scientist nor weather man,
but I am given to observation. I'm not good
in the arena of debate, but I have always been
proned to opinionate. In the Southern Region,
it seems to me that when it's not raining, the
forces of nature are thinking about raining.
080622PS
I don't hurt,
I don't cry,
I don't care,
I don't need.
I don't fear,
I don't love,
I don't want,
I don't plead.
I don't forgive,
I don't hate,
I don't feel,
I don't breathe.
I don't fight,
I don't smile,
I don't share,
I don't see.
I don't opinionate,
I don't listen,
I don't conclude,
I don't believe.
I don't break,
I don't stumble,
I don't imagine,
I don't heed.
I don't take,
I don't give,
I don't fear,
I don't bleed.
I don't hunger,
I don't thirst,
I don't smell,
I don't concede.
I don't have,
I don't lose,
I don't bare,
I don't exceed.
I don't rage,
I don't distress,
I don't hear,
I don't mislead.
I don't sin,
I don't lie,
I don't trust,
I don't proceed.
I Won't Ever Give Up,
I'll be with you,
From Dusk,
To Dawn!
MARS&VENUS
Side
by side-
she'd listen
missing true love's
gaze
Face
to face-
he'd listen
only hearing
praise.
Social fretwork
I posted a thought,
it flew away
down through dark, cavernous
cyberways,
to bump and grind
with other lonesome thoughts
in the hotbeds of social fretworks.
And worried then
where it might go
unguided, misunderstood
to liaise, frolic and fret
argue, debate,
opinionate
in a world of posts,
untethered,
away from me,
gone, awaiting its return,
alone
COVENANT
The mourning of lost souls
The treachery of natural disaster
Brings us before God to ask are we forsaken.
To adjust to ways and will of a greater source,
We go into an intellectual setting to form mentality,
Our voices, we feel, are the only key factors in overcoming what annihilates us.
The sorcerer stands now to devise a plan of spells to bring peace and wisdom amid us.
The people of the village song for a greater harvest in the old days.
The terrorists’ fires
The hate crimes
Henceforth precarious times.
To adjust to the forever changing of minds,
We must choose carefully and construct from within.
Our focus is intelligence.
Our voice must be acknowledged by acumen.
The enforcer of all these truths is a necromancer.
In the old days, the people of the village produced prodigious cognizance.
Eggheads opinionate.
Thinkers investigate.
Mentalities are our way.
We are informers of God.
We are of rightful norms.
We are the people born to construct governments.
We are modern time and divinity.
These are the idyllic years!
______________________________________________________________________|
Penned August 15, 2015!
Oh my goddess, she is modest; in the lessons she has served.
She makes me wonder, but not uncover; for my thoughts I feel reserved.
And each situation, I sense vibrations; their mood: be love be hate.
But why the barrel; no void but sterile, I can't opinionate.
And for the lacking; the voice is slacking, the words I cannot spell.
So here I sit, without a quip, but always wish you well.
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