every day is a choice
attitude is a choice
your voice, your mouth, your actions are choices
feelings laugh at this craziness
overtaking us whenever and wherever they want
infiltrating our thoughts and hearts at their whim
scoffing at the word “choice”
It was inexcusable, so I
applauded
Marauder of my emotions,
pacing ... seething
Bored with action,
his disgusting attraction to
scoffing at me
repeatedly
Same old rusty pin
popped my heart balloon until
I lost count
What did he think I would
amount to?
dust
He predicted it
so I fulfilled
the prophecy perfectly
all
by
my
self
What could have been
a long, lovely bike ride
was rudely interrupted by a
loss of balance
From my deeply skinned knee
slowly emerged dark red Hues
of Blues
that had resided below the surface
for way too long
Then the numbness set in
only adding to the pain
Finally, resorting to a place of
pitying him
helped more than a million
countless therapy sessions
Past the point of being
passive. Too weak to be
aggressive,
his big mental muscles
stopped scaring and scarring me
after enough time was lost
I killed him in my dreams and
revived him
in this other reality
What is there to gain
from a man like that
Topped with terra cotta- tiled roof
the house stood on a hill with pine trees,
partly covering it from view,
with its turrets opening like watchful eyes.
Rumor runs, at night from there,
people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
eager to prove the irrationality of it,
one night I ascended the hill,
leading to that cozy mansion.
As I paced faster and came closer,
the house looked so imposing
with a wide yard and a porch
surrounded by ornamental railings
with a winding driveway
lain with marble squares
and leading to the entrance
Close to the house but safely distant,
I noticed a narrow pit hidden among shrubs
Nothing was unusual about it.
I walked round and round.
Couldn’t see anything to rouse suspicion.
When I was about to leave,
as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging
from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on,
like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch
and soon shape shifted into a man.
Fancy or Fact, never looking back
I took to my heels as fast as I could.
Illuminati now making loud stinky farties
so angry becoming diddle dandy scoffing smarties
White Hats feeding fat black garden cats, maybe rats
getting ready for a collapse, no space for relapse !
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house looks so imposing and majestic from outside
With a wide yard and a porch surrounded by ornamental railings
It was situated on a hill with pine trees partly covering it from view,
Rumour runs, at night from there, people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
I was so eager to prove the irrationality of it.
One night I ascended the hill leading to that cosy mansion.
Close to the house but safely distant, I noticed a narrow pit.
Though I walked around, nothing seemed unusual about it.
When I was about to leave as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on, like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch.
This candle burns slowly —and with the severity of courage
We pick our way with utter caution down the bombarded stairway
One thing is certain: we must flee from this scoffing pillage.
Aided by fluttering tallow, our vision is haunted by the airway.
Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)
"Stares upstairs..
Angels’ weeing above..
Be a good chap..
Show some love bruv..
Turn off the tap..
*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..
Parched sandbag phalanxes..
Ranks marching in flanks..
Arching across busted banks..
Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..
**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..
Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth
Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..
Mischief rashly unfurling…
Brashly whirling beneath.
Bawdry..tawdry thief...
******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..
Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..
Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..
Snooty..spiffy St Clair..
****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...
Whichever not whatever...
It totally sucks..
Planet forever in..
Fluvial flummoxed flux..
Tis rather lovely weather..
Though for Dunedin's ducks.."
I’ll be gone this summer.
It’s just a fact of life.
One day when the moon settles into the heavens
and the hazy heat loses its grip on the day,
I’ll walk to the woods
and never emerge.
I’ll become one with the earth,
take my last breaths to the sounds of crickets and
squirrels scurrying to their treetop homes.
It’s not particularly something I want to do;
some days, I even find myself scoffing at this possibility.
But deep down, I know it must be done.
My existence is a wrong that must be righted
by my own hand, if by nothing quicker.
I’m better off dead.
No doubt about it.
I’ll lift the weight off my loved ones soon.
I just hope they know the last words on my lips will be a whispered
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Clouded and shrouded in mist
Hear the Misty Mountains moan
From their peaks they spend their time
Scoffing at hills fully grown
Rumbling and grumbling all day
As they watch the clouds go by
Their arrogance knows no end
Till they're humbled by the sky
He took risks you might not have
Thinking that he deserved to beat the odds
Flames like heated fiery thorns
Eat through his flesh numbing as they go
In pain, he swirls, his muscles roil
He wishes, Oh he wishes it would end, be over
His burning enthusiasm is consumed and charred
Blackened by the flames of false expectations
Reducing now into a smoldering heap
After all, he did set himself on fire
Believing the illusions, the lies he told
For power, more power, grasping for it
As the dark smoke fills his lungs
Choking his life's last breath
Scoffing at man's inhumanity to man
Inhaling humankind's immolation
As if were not his fault at all
This man on fire could be you
And so, the soul crinkles up into a ball inside
What's left of you has no place to hide
145 words free verse
Colored Pencil illustration G.Gaul 2024
He said, "Hello". I Said, "Who are you?"
He said, "I am the Devil".
I said, "C'mon man. You're not on the level".
He said, "Yes, I am".
"I can't talk to you. My morals forbid".
The Devil said, "You just did."
"No I didn't", I said.
"Yes, you did".
I shut my mouth and stopped scoffing.
As he vanished, I heard him laughing.
In the realm of self-interest, a curious soul,
Could not adhere stamps, sans wit owning a role.
His tongue, like a rover in arid terrain,
Lingered on whimsy, a scoffing refrain.
Precision eluded, in blindfolded dance,
Tongue franking an effort, missing each chance.
The stamp, a library of lore unbespoke,
His tongue still meandered, lost in each stroke.
Like giraffes when they strain ~ reaching treetops,
His sealing endeavor was a clumsy hopscotch.
The stamp lay there mocking, a coaxed witticism,
Tongue still missed the mark, a terrible tourism!
Metaphors clung, but not on the letter,
A longing unfilled, his tongue never got wetter.
The envelope sighed, craved wit's lifting brew,
Yet his tongue frolicked, having wandered no clue.
He licked and he slurped, as though miming delight,
A grand postal crime, a federal plight!
Metaphors piled up, unsent missives distressed,
His sense of himself was a bewildering behest.
In the spirit of levity, a story confided,
A stamp unadhered, a metaphor provided.
When engaging with mail, overcome by caprice of,
Just leave the attempt and go buy self-adhesive.
The Unsupervised Stop Sign 10-26-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Unsupervised Stop Sign
STOP!
Red lights flash crimson warnings
As arias of bloodred omens swirl about
My heedless headstrong rush past clanging signs
Into a deserted briar filled footpath in desertion.
SLOW DOWN!
Before unattended bowers of simpering weeds
Teach my mindless feet of snares and waiting snakes
While grieving angelic hosts
Sing pathetiques of harbingers.
DANGER!
Scoffing ignorance of neon auguries,
Captured in the throes of blindness,
My scorn winks in guarantees like surety bonds
That no other pathway breaths with rightness.
LOOK! CAUTION!
Heralds of merciful premonitions skirr,
Lay in tatters of disdain - pride traded for prudence
I swat at qualms and question like skeletons of leaves
Only to be swallowed into an abyss of remorse and contrition.
Surreptitiously she crept
Her way toward the refrigerator
Where leftover chocolate pudding
Had been stored for eating later
Of course, you know how it is
In this kind of circumstance
First one in gets the goodies
There is no second chance
Fearing missing out on treats
You sneak around late at night
Frantically raiding the fridge
Scoffing leftovers in one bite
Then in the morning suspicions mount
Accusations of theft are thrown about
But you feel no guilt, just nicely smug
And wipe the evidence from your snout
You don’t like my structure;
Sit and call me sell out,
as you reap each reward;
Scoffing at discipline,
get up and try coward;
You don’t like my structure,
schedules drive you mad;
Complain yet do nothing;
Sleep whenever you want
with a hand out yawning;
You don’t like my structure
eating what I worked for;
Stop hanging on me then!
I’m done with your comments;
I won’t be dragged again.
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