Fail is to not pass, to not reach the needed spot, to not get the grade you needed.
Fail can be planned, planned by others that wanted you to fail.
Fail getting to your dreams, by not teaching you how to plan.
Fail by surrounding you in a bad environment, filled with negative and scary stuff.
Fail by having no mentors, no one that cares, making you lost in a place that will make you fail.
Fail is not always your fault, it can be caused from many issues.
Some want you to fail, to give away all your rights, to make you get a label that will make you have no future and make you fail at all you try.
Fail can be avoided if you plan well, if you stay on track and learn and plan well.
Remember not all want you to succeed they want you to fail, so they can reap all your rewards and good life.
So, pray, plan, love and learn, do not let anyone make you fail, if you fail do not give up, and stay far away from anyone that gives you negative stuff.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Mother Nature hums a tune and sits.
While her children play, she calmly knits.
As the planets go round and round,
and the eons pass to her gentle sound,
she rocks, everlasting and immutable,
weaving patterns that are beautiful.
She knits ripples on the lakes,
the hexagons on cold snowflakes,
the spirals in sunflowers and the nautilus,
for you and I, and for all of us.
In the desert, under the big sky,
she puts cracks in clay, now dry.
With her leopard, she's so besotted,
she gives him a coat that's spotted.
Here's a game that you can play -
look around, when you're out today.
Find a pattern our mother has made
as she adorns the grand parade.
It doesn’t depend on a choice but rather
You have it innately, or not
Though it can’t be derived from mother or father
Inevitably, with a lot
Of all other merits and habits they can
Subliminally pass to you
Either you belong, or you’re not one of them
Who live as if splat in two
The national mammals like to care about
The superior meanings of their tribe
But what goes around swiftly comes around
In reverse, from another side
When it comes to a whirlwind of echoes
The nationals can’t discern
Their own voice, and from what of ghettos
A heavier smoke returns.
“To ponder is to wander-
midst memories and yonder.”
__by Poet
I oft ride down my dear memory lane-
recalling those that filled up special years,
to ponder, safeguard those which I retain-
that show my smiles still winning over tears.
I do remember childhood days with joy,
and, reminiscing on my family,
I recollect the ways they helped employ
to shape my life- then pass to me the key.
Nostalgically, I search in retrospect
and call to mind the gifts I leave behind
reflecting all the ways I could connect
accepting strength to foster peace of mind.
I ponder life as I look through this scope-
expand their gifts of love, with faith, and hope.
On reaching almost eighty,in a position one should be
well endowed with wisdom to pass to generations following behind
There have been so many changes in nearly eight decades of life
that detrimentally affect humankind
Material possessions offered as a gift provide such artificial pleasure,
divert attention from the necessary skills to survive
My presence with the "grandies" when they come here for a visit, walk them in the orchard
talk about flowers seeds and fruit, discuss so many details of how to stay alive
Read a simple story, teach a simple guitar chord or two
some relaxing body massage to help them get through
Cut some stalks of sugar cane for the juice, which they love to suck
Just be there for them whenever they are stuck
And often just to listen as they walk a thorny path, shed a tiny tear
Someone to guide them, to help quell their fear
Intangible moments share each others pleasures, filled with love and joy
Provide long lasting memories from when one was a girl or boy
So when there are birthdays or xmas and they hand out lots of presents
they know there will be none from grandpa, his presents are his presence
I long to be cycling up a mountain pass
A mountain goat on the cliff, a lake like glass
A foaming river on my left, cascading down the height
Indian paintbrush in a meadow, snowy peaks on my right.
And I couldn’t go wrong
If I had Dad along
The way he used to be
Explaining the landforms to me.
Mother and brothers would pedal too
We’d crest the pass to a panoramic view
of mountains and valleys and a wide blue ocean
Elegant towns, freight trains in motion.
Once the road was narrow, but the future was wide
Every pass a stepping stone, every mile sanctified
We ventured without thinking what it cost or meant
Some stops to regroup, but hope fueled our ascent.
I long to be cycling up that mountain pass
But freedom like that now lives in the past
Can’t do it anymore—so many restraints
Maybe in an afterlife we’ll ride with the saints.
Back to the mountain, just a metaphor
We go our own ways, life closes the door.
If you take the wrong path, hard to get on track.
Can't tell the clock to turn itself back.
Souper Suessy Poetry Contest 12-7-25
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suessy Parade
At midnight dawn my mind escapes to play among the stars
To a Summerland parade, just a bit bizzare,
Where grand marshals, Zebra Fish, lead the way in clouds
Making way for Fluegel Zoots that toot their horns out loud
Perfect lines of Elephins flying with hot air Hippos
Follow rows of Dolphinettes that march with high step Zippos
Whirling Woodles dance in step to the dispy doodle
Crickethoppers jump then jive with the Wooly Woozles
Porpi pass in somersaults with Unicorns so wild and free
Comet Twirlers twist and shout, dressed in fantasies
Snarfish on stilts lead the dance troop of the seven moons
And throw confetti as they pass to the Curly Noonelles
Red Giants snoozle in the parade riding on gopo sticks
As Tispy Oddles giggle om-pahs leading drumlines in high kicks
The Silver Reeds, dressed in gold, dance the frango dango
As the magic parade now ends when dawn skies turn bright mango.
I rest in eve' s ambrosial scent
beneath gold veils of summer spent ,
Where midnight flickers through the trees
and twinkles float upon the breeze :
I hush and whisper of content
to catch a night in soft descent ;
In starlit throbs they gently beat
A day's finale... I entreat.
There's no flaw here that I observe
as clouds become a softened curve --
This quiet pass to hours which sway,
beaming , pulsing... hallowed display.
I hold my breath in great respect
this spectacle so fully decked;
But rich and hushed about all things
which night and all her glory brings.
I'm an is-be
I have witnessed the creation
I'm an is-be
I'm a piece of divine consciousness
living a lie in this mental universe
where even spacetime is illusory
As human, as pleiadian
As male or female
Incarnating a fleeting character
till its death where i pass to another
believing each of those characters is me
while they are roles fictional, ephemeral
which i play like a kind of amnesic actor
I'm an is-be
I come from base reality
the truth most fundamental
away from this virtual world
this dream that we call cosmos
I'm an is-be
In essense supernatural
pure conscious existence
My body will disintegrate
My soul is eternal.
- Idull is a free pass to peace of mind - quote from poet
When peach colors swell in the evening sky
an moment in a spiral of color
Sharing my adventures in the silence
In my smallness between heaven and earth
a silent song becomes a symphony
I admitting my inadequacy
behind the curtain of humility
It falls as jewels on my path tonight
Idyllically near eternity
wish to hold on to this flawless moment
The Black Box
They came to the house
for the wrong reason.
In the end…
They didn’t care,
any address would do,
as long as the reports were made,
and the numbers taken down
before the beginning of the next shift.
They came,
and they tested
and then they required adherence to the law.
What law?
The one law they painted into place for us…
from our lost imaginings,
and faith spent wrongly.
Together, trapped in the moment,
a single instance in time
that refused to pass to the next.
Nice words…
are echoed,
as if sung loudly in a cave,
dark with shadow,
and then immediately swallowed up…
in silence.
Fights, lessons in public places.
Brawls and beatings to show control,
where there is none…
and never will be.
Scuffs at first,
then real marks are ground onto
and then into the surface.
Marred deeply…
Becoming part of solid stone,
which will show
again with each days passing,
into forever.
“Ask yourself..., Who are the speaking about?”
“Children of the Sea, is a song about ecology".
- Excerpt from a 2006 interview for Toazted,
where Dio explains the message he wanted pass to
the world with the lyrics of the song Children of the Sea.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Climbing
mountains
we crush the ice
Reaching
beyond skies
we blind the earth
Digging
to touch core
we lick clean
Soiling the soil
the seas, the air
we still celebrate
False calls
reverberate
climate change
We’re lost
Lost children
of Lord, Yes
We’re here
to spoil
His gifts - singular,
precious and rare
we are just
breathing guillotines
Look out! We’re sinners
Look out! We’re looters
Look out! We’re unworthy
Lost children of Lord
Yes, yes, true
We’re here to stay.
ETERNAL QUESTION
We all live in a world full of belief
Yet often with little understanding
And sciences too, deep at its roots
Religious compliance when it suits
Yet with a loyalty to the branding
And for some, can still offer relief
Ready-made answers for unknowns
Especially if there’s to be no analysis
A link to God doesn’t need religion
Yet faith still does require a decision
Some think technology is its nemesis
Like reading prayers on their phones
A supreme being can be a soft option
Even seen as a diamond in the rough
All is then done and dusted in one go
The book may be all one has to know
Alternative explanations always tough
Religions are over time, a concoction
Some claim a special insight or vision
And gaining that special pass to Bliss
Paying the ferryman to cross the Styx
As the Devil is always up to his tricks
Other options might be easy to miss
So hold back on all that easy derision
My Valentine has a ticket to ride;
So London town beware!
New wings will carry her up north;
A pass to Leicester Square.
Let Big Ben toll and chime aloud;
St James's Park prepare;
The hustle of the Covent calls;
For her to stop and glare.
Our Festival halls a singing show;
But not a stage needs she;
For Shakespeare wets her rosy lips;
Or a lovely cup of tea.
A winking Thames will guide her way,
Along a South Bank charming;
For knowing swans will nod and sway;
To see again their darling.
And she indeed is friend in kind;
To changing guards and steads;
A wine bar to intrigue her sense;
But a wooden hut to feast!
She rides the tube - this surfing queen;
No palace holds her bound;
No chains to shackle regal wrists;
In no tower is she found.
Free as the wind, sweet honey bee;
She feeds my love in rations;
My desire for her will never fade;
But London is her passion!
Was passing through old Notre Dame,
I spied the hunchback and called his name;
Said someday you will not be the same,
He said that's OK, there is no one to blame.
One time I bumped into the Pope,
Asked him how the 'ell are we to cope
When everyone is jacked up on dope;
He just said hang them one and all by a rope.
Came upon an old backwoods still,
I sat a spell and drank my fill.
Told the ol' boys do what you will
But pass to the young your brewing skill.
On the shore was a fisherman,
He had three dead fish in his pan.
Saw footprints in the distant sand,
He claimed they were made by his wife, Fran.
Rode with pirates on the open seas
And hoisted up sails to catch the breeze.
Fought off both enemies and disease,
Stole much gold with the greatest of ease.
You can see I've been far and wide,
There's been some strange things I've spied.
Now if there are things you wish you've tried,
For a small fee I could be your guide.
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