Sleep still ain't shhtt
It's like my eyes n brain js quit
Maybe it helps sometimes..a bit
But my very own reality is soooo much more than legit.
If I never had to sleep,
I swear I'd stay running in circles
Kuz, honestly
I dnt see the point in any of thiss
Every single fkin person on this planet
Is fabricated from 100% plastic
I know u think I'm being a lil drastic
Or dramatic
But I'm no half wit
You couldn't understand tha half of it
You'd be too extra with all of your calculus
But to be honest..
all ya gotta do is put a tiny flame to their skin
Watch them crawl and twitch n triple blink in tha fastest second u could ever pretend to think
People heard the phrase knowledge is power
But tha issue is most are too lazy to truly devour
all of that information that they encounter
js by clicking some buttons into their browser
Unfortunately that laziness kicks in when their brain feels a tingle
And they skim thru the pages, only looking
None of it ever sinking in
Dumbed down..held back
Not even close to being able to
Completely interact
On the level our brains should be at
I haven't got a university degree,
My poems, are what I think, just me!
There are no meanings hidden in the words, what I write I hope makes the meaning clear,
They show my thoughts, my dreams and the things that I fear.
I listened to a poetry show, where people read out rambling poems, with hidden meanings and long lines of so called prose,
I was bored, they meant nothing to me I guess, I suppose I'm just simple, it makes my ignorance clearly show,
The host of the show got very excited and went on about what the poem meant,
But as I am a simple man, I write for enjoyment and for me, so I am going to carry on, if you like my poems or not I am very content.
So you read your stanza's and poems with a set amount of lines,
And if you read mine and like them, that's great, but it doesn't matter if you don't because they are just mine!!
Disarmed
Bullets fall silent
against words
well chosen
Their caliber
muted
— the target on fire
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Stuck In Gear
Motion
not an absolute
The world
is never still
Inertia
tries to write the law
Where stop and start
are nil
History
at the speed of light
Consensus
in the math
But standing
here
While stuck in gear
— the notion leaves me flat
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Before The After
Don’t bog down
in research
Spontaneity
the thing
Truth
is most elusive
And joy
a passing Spring
In flashes
of an instant
What’s timeless
will appear
Thinking often
kills the goose
That lays
— both far and near
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Deafening Silence
Things most often named
before understood
Then never renamed
for the bad or the good
‘Particles of light’
we now know as waves
But ad infinitum
their reference stays
A ‘Tablet of Paper’
consisting of sheets
Two ‘Bolts’ of lightning
fused Franklin’s belief
A ‘Softball’s’ still deadly
meant to careen
And ‘Deafening Silence’
— spurs wonder indeed
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
If I throw her off a building,
Will it make her go away?
If I fix the cracking gilding,
Will it make him want to stay?
If we tear up the canvas,
Will they stop staring at me?
If I destroy all my sketches,
Will the demons leave me be?
...I'll carry the weight of my sorrow,
For fear of breaking my heart again.
Or I'll leave it 'til tomorrow.
And instead, I'll wait for Jane.
“Rambling is not how the crow flies;
it is how a rose covers the wall in perfume.” – by poet
At the Rambling Club, they met each other:
Nanna and Grandpa, before they were lovers.
Inadvertently late, when finally home,
She’d climb in the window all on her own.
He was a buyer of silk from houses in France,
And she was a shop girl glad of romance.
When I was a child in their house in the night
I’d hear them talk softly, but never a fight.
Laughing out loud was a trademark of his;
Kindness and elegant grace were hers.
I’d hold his big hand and walk down the street.
He’d stop for a chat with the people we’d meet.
She knitted my jumpers and mended my clothes.
She let me climb trees and taught to me to sew.
The hug at the door is the thing I loved best.
I cherished them, miss them, and yes, I’ve been blessed.
That rambling castle across the landscape bewitched my heart
As though divinity has signed, gorgeous is its art.
Are the cherubims relaxing, spreading out their legs and hands?
Are these archaic, ornate boulders on mountainous strands?
Cave-like, carved curvy corridors crookedly coil around
Vertical and horizontal length, width, and depth rebound
Celestially thrill-filled, airy arrays in sunlit style
Are Hephaestus and Athena spreading a sapphire smile?
Points, lines, planes, volumes, and magnitude speak tonnes of volumes.
Are these flawless frills and folds parts of angelic costumes?
Gloriously intricate, cosy carvings, and wide wings
Brim-fill with cosmically grace-filled mimetic mouldings
These sprawling, spreading, sturdy structures seem to symbolise
Incomprehensibly divine marvels that synthesise
Short, long, sharp, and blunt; straight and twisted mortal existence
That draws, from the spiritual source, its soul sustenance.
"Be not careless in deeds, nor confused in words, nor rambling in thoughts." (Marcus Aurelius)
In certain moments, less is more.
It's regarded as a cliche,
but when you think hard about it,
it is true in many cases.
I'm not thinking in terms of wealth-
in certain moments, less is more.
Imagine a boring topic,
now someone rambles on about-
tax refunds, software management-
a bacterial infection.
In certain moments, less is more.
It will benefit everyone.
Think back to middle and high school-
your math teacher talking about
their lunch, then algebra, then pens.
In certain moments, less is more.
"Google a guy's history if you are interested in him. If he has not stayed in one place very long at any one time, you can be sure he won't stay with YOU."
quote by poet
Beware the rambling lad you meet one day
who comes into your town and turns your head.
He’s just a naughty boy who wants to play,
but never will he settle down to wed.
He’ll croon to you a lovely serenade
beneath your window, playing his guitar.
Too late you’ll learn it’s YOU that has been played
when on your heart there will be left a scar.
It’s wanderlust that he is all about
plus lusting after girls who just like you
fall prey to thinking that he is devout
because he pledges love, his love’s not true.
They say that those who ramble have no goal,
but this lad plays a lady-killer’s role.
rambling
is all he does
when drunk, which is often;
nothing he says ever makes sense.
don't be surprised if he falls like timber...
you won't get a word in edgewise.
please, quit the bottle, sir!
an expert in
rambling
When time echoes the promise of a rambling soul, one who knows that the past never can be left, because it is there that solace leaves its caress, its breath ever rising in the presence of sorrow’s tangled web ~ quote by poet
She waits in silence, for the gentle winds,
Soft revelations of what might have been,
She remembers with feelings she rescinds.
She reflects on lost nights that did begin,
Soundless and still, like the sea of belief,
Soft revelations of what might have been,
Sometimes it feels she’s been left in her grief,
Sure to learn of what comes from night’s lonely,
Soundless and still, like the sea of belief,
Should she call friends or her one and only?
Soon, she recalls her beloved has passed,
Sure to learn of what comes from night’s lonely.
Swiftly, time reveals rambling that will last,
Sharing memoirs, she drifts from room to room,
Soon, she recalls her beloved has passed,
Sensitive, like dreams, her heart is all gloom,
She waits in silence, for the gentle winds,
Sharing memoirs, she drifts from room to room,
She remembers with feelings she rescinds.
“Father Sun is continually rambling and by doing so defines the night.” ~ by poet
Rambling
cosmic thoughts of
Mother Moon, Father Sun,
many of which I pen to page
in recounting their passionate story.
Demonstrating his devotion,
Sun dies so Moon may rise.
He spends his nights
rambling.
It requires magical thinking
to put things in the right way
Back then there was never a race against the clock
An evaporated history, the core of the truth
As bits of humor, from the stately wedding
No matter how wild the story was
not all myths were debunked
The groom Maximus died on the wedding night
his young wife was still a virgin
He wanted to rise above his own mortality
and never left this house
The abandoned stately property became haunted
Rumors are telling,
that he is still looking for his attractive maiden
In heavy noonday heat cicadas sing
Bright sun teases my skin with hot caress
Colourful birds in palm spread lovely wings
Momentarily speechless I digress.
Each year without failing beauty unfolds
Gold trumpet creeper rambling everywhere
Blazing orange with a touch of pure gold
Heavenly vision that ignites prayer.
Rambling fecundity gives pure delight
Seasonal blessing each and every day
Do fae folk frolic on hot summer night?
Yes, dancing along with flowers that sway.
Beware, do not look while those fae folk dance
Be mindful because it can cause a trance.
Quote By Poet "Time is a funny thing. It is here, it is gone.
Never to be found again."
As l get older,
I find the same word has different meanings.
I ask myself,
how can that be?
As a child I played by myself,
I was just rambling around to kill time.
When I started working,
the work day went rambling along.
As a new mom the baby phase,
sure was not rambling anywhere.
Now older and hopefully wiser,
I can see how some words have changed my life.
Now as the years have past by so quickly,
I find myself rambling along from day to day.
Madder then the mad hatter
wearing a black bandanna,
the word spinning
head scrambling
lyrical attacker,
taking your words
and pinning them to the wall with a dagger,
head so spun
you stumble and stagger,
two feet set
but struggling to climb the ladder,
take a draw from the pipe
then call the smoking caterpillar,
because it’s better to chase the rabbit
then the dragon,
Your crumbling slow demise
as the wheels fall of the wagon,
body so young
but the skin is full of aging,
Pickpocketing your beauty
like the artful dodger and Fagin.
Now You may think I’m mad,
and the waters I tread are a murky,
but there’s a man over there called Benji
and he’s a talking to a turkey !!!!
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