I hate good-byes.
There is nothing good
in them.
They are too permanent.
Ominous par excellence.
I said good-bye
to a friend once,
never saw him twice.
No, there is nothing good
in a good-bye.
I favour
farewell.
Two Ditties
I Favour ‘Farewell’ Protest
I hate good-byes. Place your hand
There is nothing good across your face,
in them. with palm smothering
They are too permanent. your nose and mouth, and
Ominous par excellence. fingers bars across your eyes.
I said good-bye
to a friend once, You can almost hear
never saw him twice. your pulse protest:
“Can I live like this
No, there is nothing good forever?”
in a good-bye.
I favour
farewell.
In this skull is only a high pitched cloud.
I was half as awake as anyone held onto.
Waking up early is permanent.
That wasn’t my childhood.
I don’t have anything like that.
Just little beeping and whirling sounds.
I live outside the photo.
I don’t trust anything that can get blurry.
The blurriness might be permanent.
I hope my skull is too.
I approached the familiar chair,
And sat, breathing out the stress of the day.
Looking around, familiar faces with almost-remembered names
Flashing back and forth on the TV.
In my hand is just water,
But it feels like a tell.
I sit, all my possessions within reach.
Everything that makes me what I thought was
Unique
Fearless
Strong
Is hidden behind my leg.
Embarrassment and shame engulfs me again.
Another hotel lobby, because no bed welcomes me.
A bag filled with donated miscellaneous mystery meat
Cans I bow down for, gratitude for something
For something someone found.
From Easter, or Christmas, 15-20-30 years past.
No good for people,
To the homeless it's passed.
The chair is familiar.
It is the chair I sat in when I realised -
Pity is not low enough,
Disgust is not deep enough.
You know how you feel when you see them.
Sat outside because no one welcomes us in.
I meet it in the quiet eyes—
a storm that will not name its rain,
a body fluent in distress
while language stands apart in pain.
Emotions move like shadows crossed,
their edges faint, their colors dim,
a childhood taught to still the waves,
to silence joy, to cage the limb.
Perhaps a parent’s frozen face,
perhaps a trauma’s early vow:
“Don’t feel too much, it isn’t safe”—
and so the self forgot the how.
The cure is neither fast nor neat—
it’s naming what was once concealed,
through patient talk, through art, through touch,
until the numbness learns to yield.
We teach the heart its mother tongue,
to read its pulse, to find its rhyme—
and gently, word by word, restore
the lost music of feeling in time.
No permanent best friend
I know I you sometimes
Yet you are not guaranteed for ever
I don’t care if you believe in God
That is your problem
But I know there is an higher energy
Yes there is a higher force
Far beyond human energy and power
I have passed through so many days
In life
I have been through many times and periods
It moments are never the same
Some times i was a victim
Some times I was a victor
Some times I am right
Some times am wrong
With time friends became enemies
Also with time enemies became best friend
Yet through all this time and changes
God remains the Same
Only God is my permanent best friend
Poem:
Nothing is permanent — not even the day,
Not youth, not time, that slips away.
The spirit dims, the fire can fade,
Even the brightest light can shade.
Good times end, and bad ones, too,
What seems so certain won't stay true.
Status falls, and pride may bend,
Dignity meets a timely end.
Loss and gain both come and go,
Like tides that shift, fast or slow.
Victory fades, and so does defeat,
Nothing in life is ever complete.
Ups and downs, joy and despair,
All are part of the same air.
Nothing is fixed, no steady way,
Life keeps changing day by day.
So why fear change? Why fear the fall?
When change itself is nature’s call.
Enjoy the now, don't chase control —
Let freedom settle in your soul.
For in this life, so strangely bent...
The only truth: Nothing is permanent.
A BULL in a china shop with a permanent rotten smell of musk
Temporal is aiming for permanence
But much benevolence paints the prudence
To keep change changing
To keep range ranging
To give meaning to purpose and hope
To create a future into which to elope
From an old past on stone cast
Onwards fast to a great that will last
Even that which may last forever
In light of memory that may favour whatever
Will suffer oblivion
And the wavering of opinion
Until it is craved for and recalled
Once again hailed and installed
Only to be trampled underfoot again
And such be the recurring strain
So affirms the permanence of temporaries
Times and heirs being the emissaries
Passing down through the years
All cheers and jeers across seers and peers
And so it is now as it was then
Such temptations common to men
Throughout time and space
Even as enduring wisdom is strained of grace
K. Muitherero
Gone in a moment, yet timeless ye be:
Flame in my candle, and soul that's in me.
when my days slow down
prop me up so I can watch
life still evolving
"It's a boy," they rejoiced at last
She held him close, her tears fell fast.
At fifty, God's will had come to be
Her longing heart was finally free.
Days faded to weeks, weeks to months
The boy, her gem, began to bloom.
Months turned to years in swift pursuit
She watched him grow, her love resolute.
Yet as he grew, her joy grew thin
The warmth he gave began to dim.
Time, like a thief, stole his love for her
Stories they become all that fun they shared.
He married, settled, found his way
Her world collapsed, now cast away.
The mother’s wisdom, once so prized
Was now ignored, no longer prized.
In this world, money
Is temporary; treasure
What's worth heaven for.
Been in a bit of a funk lately
Have I finally reached the end
No quatrains, couplets or narratives
No words of wisdom to send
At first I thought, oh I'll be back
Humming along as before
Don't get yourself in a great big flap
Lately I'm not quite so sure
Wishful thinking was part of it
It's lot more serious than I thought
The well's running dry, pretty sure
In a permanent funk I'm caught
Need a great event to inspire me
It's only a matter of time
I'll be back on track and zinging along
And once again I'll be fine
In no time at all I'll be smiling again
So why am I feeling so down
Feel like this old King of the Jesters
Is somehow losing his crown
Thoughts they flow so easily
I need a pen to keep on me
No paper? No problem, I have an arm
To write things on, these words of charm
And when I transfer them to here
Then all who read will know you're dear
But if I get a new tattoo
Wherever it is I'll just show you
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