Things One Can't Change, Just Breathe
A range of things don't move, no question
The plea,
Life launches weight you can't always be a
Perk
Pressure hits hard, sits sunken in the stitching-
Things one can't change...Just Breathe
Turmoil doesn't query if you're ready to
Percolate.
Truth doesn't solicit just cause you believe.
When the world domiciles cold and won't
Compromise Things one can't change...
Just Breathe.
Some fights ain't your own, let the weight
Exemption, Not every storm justifies your
Peace.
Life hits brutal; don't let it snatch things one
Change...Just Breathe
When the world pitches noise, you don't
Get accredited.
And truth gets entwined in what they interwind,
Hold your Center, keep your things one can't
Change..Just Breathe
I have no desire to mend the fences,
life is now lived in past tenses:
heartbreaker
joy taker
misery maker
I was told don’t burn those bridges,
trouble only comes in smidges:
pitches
switches
stitches
The stars are not arranged for comfort,
but to sparkle, shine and extort:
take chance
moon dance
romance!
Carry on my wayward son
there’ll be peace when you are done*
life gives
love lives
forgives.
*Kerry Livgren
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bore--Bell---Valves---------Slides------
---------------Articulation---------------
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THE SLUR
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reaching the limit of his intelligence
she felt more obligated to the other
feeling a need to
process her feelings
to rebuild emotional intimacy
that intimacy she needed
from the other man
so she could feel validated
Expressing emotions aloud
unfulfilled needs in her
current primary relationship
such as a lack of emotional
connection, excitement, and validation
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I already got me someone else
(Since you already have someone else
tell me what you are looking to do
so we can move forward)
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Whats ah man to do
tell me
whats auh man to do?
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Chops and woodshedding
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The two most dominant baseball pitchers of their eras
On the mound, neither was cute or clever
Each reared back and fired
No matter if they were dead-tired
Sandy Koufax and Nolan Ryan
Most batters gave up even tryin’
The great Yogi Berra once said
I understand how Koufax won 25 games last year”
But how he lost five games just isn’t clear”
Koufax deemed Ryan’s lack of pinpoint control his secret weapon
He labeled Ryan a wild bombardier
Who won games because his wayward 100 mph pitches instilled fear
Time for Dessert - Acrostic Challenge 2 Poetry Contest
Andrea Dietrich
Batter takes the banana pitches,
And swings for some yogurt and butter.
Nuts and raisins are in the field,
As a strike of milk and sugar shouts.
Next batter up hits the sweet spot,
Anxiously, the team of players rises.
Bake and shake around the bases.
Riches and the pitches of Chiquita’s,
Enjoying the score, slices, and strikes,
As the savory loaf rises in the oven.
Delightment of a win moments away.
The sun sleeps in well past dawn
as snow and ice fill the morn
The bright red cardinal
nowhere to be found
Darkness reigns well past eight
tempts the workday: Start late
Children shiver, lips a-quiver
Moms can't resist this bait ...
But the world chugs ahead
her engine ignites, wheels revolve
Locomotive roars, the sun snaps-to
~ inertia pitches forward, into the flue
Twinkle stars in the sky Children wish one day to fly
Woollen clothes with tender stitches
Winter comes dew the pitches
Flowers blossom, grasses moisten
Itinerary of life changes often
Rekindling the mosiac of dreams.
Impinges the way to gleams.
Untie the knot around your neck
With conscience and a little introspect
Before the world tightens the rope
Clutter the false with the hope
Live the life as you aspire Become the one that you admire.
Hurt your pride just a little.
Slay the demon with your mettle
Star-dusts punctuate the dwindling daylight.
The moon enkindles the nooks of the skies.
Restless charcoal clouds yearn to be quiet.
The fog-clad blossoms still seek the sunrise.
As foretold by the mystics and sages
His advent is an act of upheaval.
He rewrites the history's ripped-up pages.
His strife is between the good and evil.
He pitches his tent among meek humans.
He blows as silent as the tender breeze.
Cosmos, into lustrous light, illumines.
Creatures, in adoration, bend their knees.
Creation, at his descend, stands astounded.
Times in timelessness stand suspended.
It’s never silent in our home;
The music’s always on,
Most often from the radio,
Tuned in ‘til dusk, from dawn.
The desktop also pitches in
For jazz or swing or blues
And there’s another radio
That’s only set to news.
The street noise filters in as well,
But I can tune it out,
Unless it’s something extra loud,
Which happens, there’s no doubt.
Yet mostly I enjoy the sounds
Musicians strum or blow
Or pluck or tap or sing, through which
Good spirits seem to flow.
Skirts
With comforts,
Hollandia Yoghurt flirts...
Before each tongue diverts,
From the usual that alerts,
The change to an impromptu concerts,
In different stages of many a song asserts
Except for the atmospheric dive,
Our faces depict the shared skirts
Without sweet scents, breaths hive
Swaying gallant statues in style alerts
High concentrated inebriant consumed
Took our legs lightly easy leaning back
Subjected to change of hits well costumed
Our voices disown its pitches to its crack
Introduce us to the people we know not
And we mingle like been known for ages
It wasn't true but lively moment grown hot
Speaking truthful lies unlike most sages
Happiness
Staged liveliness
Interrupt able orderliness
And introduce apt funniness
In order to promote calmness
Actively seeking to warm night dizziness
Through the beauty of tease staggering fitness
Of our hearts pouring out raw felicity's queasiness
“Our World”
by Positive Mark
As we all seek a world to be contained in, our peek-out is the news. For those of you less beautiful, I gift fried chicken and the blues.
Horns with a muted bellow for every dead fellow who never made it out. Tight dresses for baby’s mommas, so those bodies leave no doubt.
Pitches peak on slammaday and slumday, then dive by Monday.
Jazz strained by too much salt. It’s food called soul. It ain’t our fault.
I’ve had no chill since Emmit Till.
Percussion is dulled by a pocket of pills. Contained in a world where we’re killed.
Gorilla pimps and ‘rillo scents, when will our world be healed?
The Staves had arrived to envoke the stabilty
and structure
that had been lacking.
To the Normal desencey of things
One to image, the full scope
of things. She called upon the
the circle of fifths
the 12 chromatic pitches
3:16 centered
Harmonic relationship &
Transpositions:
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During the Researching phase of this part
several members of the brainstorming team
became angry:
" A Member of What Wasn't Taaught"
appeared and began discussions.
They nevr taught you the phrases
Fiance or Fiancce in school.
It had been excluded along with
Discion making aspects of
becoming engaged and finding the right
person to marry you.
Music theory seems to be taught
in colleges or to
gifted students.
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-shmuzn or shmuesn
The QuadCity Chatter Box
" The CoachBuilt Bentley"
25 should be built
and sold aound the world
to the jealousy of the People!
Inspiration might come
with From a Position o Jealousy
Jealousy does not fit any of these rules
because it is an abstract.
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Her eyes are laden with drunken sleep,
Silhouetted by lank, tired hair flimsier
Than the spine of an elderly, broken night.
Tattered, it buries the horrors of night;
Braided, it creases the rows of black corn,
Sweeping swiftly south and downwards;
Ponytail ties the umbilical linking life
And skyline light.
Lissome, she traipses with no lamp,
Even when darkness confidently pitches its nightingale’s romance
To district judges seated on the kerb of the apothecary’s creed . . .
With her the night loses its potency,
Its sacredness,
Expelling flies that die out on their own willpower,
Like winged dinosaurs,
Through the age of decomposing summer.
It's all been analysed before?
The oneiric spell cast upon slow, difficult nights
When the breath smells like the anus of hell.
By the way, I drivel.
Not saliva.
Oh, no!
I drivel on about hissing nights that ought to be lonesome,
Stretched out, dark, and without rays borrowed
Earlier from a twerking twilight.
Restless nights, worn like silky cloaks, diaphanous,
Seeing through the naked veins of her sweet eyes.
I just heard two elevator pitches
Surgeons both, too int’rested in riches
Yet I found them quite funny
Even if they loved money
Though I said ‘No,’ they left me in stitches
Wind outside my tiny home, wreaking chaos on its porch
Wicker chairs and potted plants, stand firmly against its force
Finely tuned chimes sound loudly, sending sweetly toned notes into the night
A candle I’ve lit flickers, with the flow of cool currents through aging wooden panes
As the warm glow from the fire, now comforting, fends off the chill from a cool springtime rain
Tuxedo cats hardly notice a thing, intertwined into something resembling a fine sable
Opening one eye on occasion, then quickly returning to twilight
The fire logs let out a soft sounding hiss, as they shrink into hot glowing embers
Fixing my gaze towards its vibrant colors. Comforting, Hypnotic
Drift off to sleep with sounds of a storm. Who’s sharp pitches and tones
Guiding me gently like binaural beats and theta waves
Into another state, created by conscious choice. A world of making all my own
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