I think back of days long gone
memories of right or wrong
being weak or strong.
These routinely resonate,
beaches glistening, montains snowing,
children misbehaving, our parenting,
wife laughing then crying.
I have nothing.
I gaze to the future
where dreams live forever..
Dancing and holding my love,
our flight of the dove.
My children visit shining their light
soaring like eagles in full flight.
My heart is lifted, full of gold
a true patriarch will never grow old.
Happened and may happen is not a happening.
They are immutable events,
one in the grave the other yet no benefits.
Present presents the grandest presence.
Every tick of the clock
a thought, a calculation, a reaction, a decision.
These things occur with or without precision,
changing the course of destiny yet to be found.
It is here where I will stand my ground.
Memories and dreams will always be in flight,
but in the present I shall bend my light.
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil,
Is for good men to do nothing.”
It's a quote routinely attributed to Edmund Burke.
"I have no right to post this.
Here in my ivory tower where nothing is amiss.
I eat when hungry and drink when I thirst.
Feel pity for those babes, but I always come first." The Poet.
A child is precious no matter where they be.
So who could inflict such agony?
They say the end is near,
If the crying stops by a child so dear,
Sweet might has no strength left to cry.
The mother must sit and watch the babe die.
Donations given but aid cant get through.
Great suffering by hunger, if the aggressors only knew.
Blurred Realities Cryptic, Faded, Vague.
Questionable behaviors are they mere fantasies ?
No one is perfect, inhale, exhale.
I finally accepted I'm not anyone's favorite person.
People may routinely tell me what's best for me
And pretend they care when their actions don't
match their words.
Living someone else's reality became distorted
At the battlefield of this mental war.
Oftentimes fatiguing to consume these decisions to
over-ride this reflectiveness of My Blurred Realities.
The specter of nuclear war haunts the world again
not long after we all thought it might end
As agreements of Reagan and Gorbachev are trashed
the angst of Krushchev and Kennedy streams past…
Today, Iran hungers for the bomb, terrifying everyone
in her recent ‘Twelve-Day-War,’ a nuclear future may have won
Putin speaks casually of using ‘whatever force is necessary’
to render Ukraine a useful ex-enemy…
America’s arsenal’s buried deep beneath the ground ~
in the M-E, ballistic missiles and drones routinely downed
On the radio I heard
A statement that I found absurd.
It described today’s parade
Where tributes are routinely made
To soldiers who have served and died,
Who’ve earned our gratitude and pride.
“These troops fought hard so on this date
We all can meet and celebrate
The freedom that they helped fulfill
By eating burgers from the grill.”
I get that it’s symbolic, yet
No soldier would, I’d surely bet,
Risk life and limb or wounds to heal
So we could barbecue a meal.
That said, we all should take a pause
To think of all who fight because
They do a job and know each breath
Could bring them grief or harm or death.
This holiday, each one who serves
Should get the honor he deserves.
I want to fly where a fairy flies
My sparkling wings sweeping dusky skies
A star at my brightness routinely shies
And I’m never recognized in this guise.
I want to swim where a mermaid swims
My iridescent scales like glittery limbs
Whales and fish sport appreciative grins
And the exercise makes even curvy bods thins.
I want to mother like a dragon-mom mothers
My fierce fiery protection for baby sisters, brothers
Love worn on wings wrapped tight round one ‘others
And colorful familial binds flash as each nestling hovers.
Feathery souls, titanium hearts, exposed minds required
To experience pure fantasy in time before expired!
Not tonight my lovely
I must stop writing about
The women I met in
my tumultuous youth
that lasted into middle age
touching the years
of elderliness
I do remember a woman
In Taiwan
She had beautiful hair
That turned out to be a wig
She was scaringly bald
Perhaps she had had cancer
She was flat chested too
Wore boxer shorts and
Had an ********
No, not tonight, misses Wong
She routinely dressed
Adjusted her wig
Down in the bar, I drank whisky
To think I had kissed her
With passion
now that we know
we’re dying and yet loving it
being slowly consumed by the bliss flame
that our delusion may disappear
there’s nothing left to do
patterned chores
performed routinely day after day
yet does represent our bondage to earth life
wherein we dwell in our comfort zone
gravity of stupor binds us
mere recognition
is not enough to grant freedom
so we must remain in a meditation continuum
bilocating between form and the void
at ease wherever we may be
My fragmented heart defied my mind's authority
A gloomy transformation carved from sorrow's blood
Dopamine disappears while endorphins are the minority
The down feeling crashes in like an uncontrolled flood
An unwelcomed intruder colonizing my obedient body
I routinely succumb to your callous commands
An old foe by the former name of melancholy
Like a sponge you absorb my joy unarmed
Your fourth unsolicited visit in fourteen years
The voice of my normality fades in your shadow
Familiar with your punishment I become immune to fears
The heat of your rule coerces my heart to feel mellow
I forbade hopelessness to assert its voice in my head
Through gruntled teeth I allow my pride to fall instead
Antidepressants forces a ceasefire in our internal war
Tranquility pushes you out through my heart's aluminium door
I embrace peace knowing It too visits but does not stay
For I know you will return again in a few years from this day
earthquakes and fissures
routinely affect politics and relationships
as they act on the earth's crust
tectonic plates clash in subduction zones
they separate at divergent boundaries
a quake strikes
will I engage or detach?
wisdom will prevail
I will not be smashed or fall between the cracks
Bliss
a phase where we are continually happy
where those people
who are routinely making your relationship
difficult are eased with the promise of one
reaping the rewards of a successful endeavor.
when the stage is set and those who wish you happiness
can know longer narrate or meddle in
the two Lovers lives.
When the ink is casted
let the honeymoon began.
She bought both her flute and oboe
on the honeymoon.
She had me crawling on my oboes just to
get next to her.
Every time I started smochie hoochie
she blow the flute.
I kissed her cheek and she blow the oboe.
I had to get a sing with her to stay outta trombone: I bassoon it's
part of the honeymoon phase. Being inspired and all. But staying interested meant staying in tune
but hat's all n the Bliss of romance.
It's all about romance and being romantic!
The Tip on Table Seven was from the Guy I told this
Story too. He to was
on his honeymoon.
The Gal's went outside clownshow.
Too many insect out there for me
I came inside! She out there in
th Gally get-up: Dudes lookin all up on her:
Let me get out there:before she start
smiling up in somebodies face!
See you around man!
Tall Her Eminence stood, calling my name,
My first-grade teacher of notable fame,
Who had taught most all my kin years before,
Now she was summoning me to her court.
She was judge and jury, penalized fast,
Any wrongdoing or mischief in her class,
No one could counsel me in my disgrace,
She was the defense too, for goodness sake.
I had committed a horrendous crime,
Someone’s stomach had felt my fist big time,
Now this tiny hoodlum was called to pay,
For what he had done at recess that day.
As I slowly approached, a friend of mine
Whispered, “say you’re sorrow, might work this time,”
As I stood before the bench for judgement,
I said those words, vowing I would repent.
Reprimanded, I quickly retreated,
Glad my life had be spared and not deleted,
Learned great lesson about grace extended,
On which I routinely contemplated.
Strange how such events look in retrospect,
People like her, I will never forget,
Those who taught me to behave as I ought,
As that first-grade teacher of mine, Miss Mott.
When you are given a glass of water
that you haven’t asked for
and are told to drink it
chances are
you have received some devastating news
or have suffered some trauma
your world has been turned on its head
and it is believed
that a glass of water will help you cope
and so
without really noticing
you take and drink that glass of water
and it does help
remarkably
that which we routinely consume
without a second’s thought
is of definite help in a time of crisis
I was recently handed a glass of water
that I hadn’t asked for
and was told to drink it
which I did
and
amidst the upheaval
that was then my world
that glass of water
became an anchor
so
when I turn on a tap
something fundamental
deep inside me
is eternally grateful.
Played
Every other's antennas oftentimes are up, An emotional
state that everything is mental being free from deceit.
Unguarded emotions impulsiveness and vulnerability
routinely get taken for granted in games of strength,
distractions are often hypocritical and shady. Rules
are broken, and trust is deceptive powerless to be played.
Survival of the mentally fit supposes everything has cause
and consequences who you thought you played
well, you played yourself.
The girl got on the imparing , noisy bus
Although She was tired and bit of wuss
Because of her routinely work and circus
She was getting a rapid pulse
Her pulse got higher as she saw two creep,
Who by looks were looking pretty cheap,
Lurking on the girl like a scaring peep,
Trying to come closer as the bus had a leap,
The girl can’t express her awkwardness,
She is felt trapped into a manly mess,
Can’t even shout load to make a fuss,
Nor can she get off the running bus,
She was trying to get out of this dismay,
Like a deer escape from becoming a prey,
The creeps were making ride hard way
The people around were pretty astray.
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