Foibles, we all have them,
Longing to hide them at all costs.
Aware they will inevitably cast our downfall.
Weaknesses don’t fail to come with consequences:
Entangled webs in spite of best intentions,
Distorted outcome when it comes to dreams.
Puppets dangling on puppeteer strings
Every motion somewhat off kilter:
Organized chaos behind the illusion,
Psychodrama when daring to scrutinize too close.
Lifesize regrets: the cliff to be avoided.
Eye on the prize, doing our best.
AP: 2nd place 2026
We are two graves now, love
Two pretty little things
Surrounded by officials
Their lawyers, their police
Must be a party nearby
Drunk dancers over here
Stamp clumsily upon us
Each laughs at their own jokes
We couldn’t care less
We had it all, and more
And many, many more
What they will never know
And never scrutinize
To check us out they should
Guess even vaguely about
The subject they expect to see
But they are unaware
They wouldn’t know the matter
For us they don’t exist
As we for them, so I suggest
To take it as it is
The sun will shine again
Our trees will grow up tall.
Heavy is this weight, a feeling I must keep,
I swallow hard, and force it down inside
Counting the cracks while trying my best to sleep,
Across the ceiling, theres nowhere left to hide
Deep lines have grown, a map of painful pride,
I've never seen them stretch so far and deep
Each perfect thing, I scrutinize should I confide,
And find the fault that my watchful eyes will keep
I know the words, the actions I could take,
To show the strength I hide within my breast
I know the climb, the promise I could make,
To rise above, and put myself to the test
But this knowledge waits; a seed within the shell,
To flower, to bloom, too lift me from this hell—
Eye-catching gamut space and time of shelved encase
restrained lookout scrutinize scheme, advanced karma
I Am Apparently
The Opposite Of
Everyone Else
AND
Exactly The Same!
It Depends Upon
How You Scrutinize Me;
Or, More Specifically:
If You Do.
-Gray Squirrel
08-31-2025
Written June 5, 2025, for contest: Etheree Of Your Heart - Sponsor: Ink Empress
Syllable count verified: www.howmanysyllables.com
*****************
Breeze
broadcasts
charming pace
beats of the breeze
girls with clumsy legs
scrutinize for snail beads —
to the seamless sapphire sky
amid the swarm of silky clouds,
sculpt morphs into cobalt-hued visor
spume tails hover from peaks with cyclic bliss
winsome enthusiasm in our core swathes —
storm hooves herald the dawn of high tide
enshrines recall of past paths roved
rings rhythm of earned respite care
in sound and unspoilt place —
weaving whimsy waves
soothes my spirit.
drawn gold sky,
soul glint
stream
Abstract ideas flitter about in my brain
like butterflies navigating a stiff August breeze.
I try unifying them into something,
a patchwork quilt of grandiose dreams
showcasing profound thoughts
that I feel are worthy of sharing
with strangers and sycophants,
maniacs and mentally sound,
downtrodden and dignitaries,
paupers and princesses
in hopes of making a lasting impression
that will forever change their lives.
But before unveiling my work to the world,
I scrutinize the stitching,
then question the pattern.
Thinking that it’s not good enough,
that it requires additional refinement,
I tear apart the completed piece.
Quickly I discover that it can’t be resewn,
reassembled
or recreated.
What was once coherent,
vibrant,
profound,
now lies in ruin.
These scraps of doubt then entomb me.
Unable to manipulate the fabric,
I remain immobilized
by a misguided attempt
to cover my perceived imperfections
and bury my profound neurosis
so my frail ego
will be shielded from nonexistent ridicule.
I lay , Frozen in my own creation - The Maze
It is gawked at by passerbys
Only to laugh and scrutinize.
They undermine the hold of them on me
Not one willing to stay and untangle the poisoned ivy parasitically preying
They comment at my state
And hand me empty maps
Telling me how simple it is to evade
Damned if I attempt to escape
I resign to my demise
Damned if I pray for a saviour
I attempt to sew my own tears
If only I was defined
If only I had refined
If only I hadn't mind
If only I'd been blind
Would the tangled vines remain intertwined?
If I tear through will I survive?
Or is it easier to stay docile?
I'm the prisoner of my own mind
Put on death row subjected to a perpetual decline,
Was it my fate to become like this?
Or was it a fault of mine?
I fear I don't have enough time to decide
For I'm next in line
I don't trust politics, therefore I am
Otherwise I've no chance to be me
But somebody else, quite a different man
Not the one that I happen to be
I believe in love, therefore I’m a lover
And you must be a lover as well
Otherwise we might be undercover
Of something that looks quite like hell
They count our money, they want us to reveal
All that we are, very small
Subjects they scrutinize to make us feel
That we do not matter at all
But I do agree to be that matterless
No reason to argue with them
Anyway I’ll be taken for somebody else
Not the real person I am.
In a world where hate reigns in whirling waves, as winter wreaths form chilling chains.
I seek refuge from weeping war strains; my one desire to vacate the poverty lane.
These gliding lights we glimpse in the atmosphere aren't honest or humane.
On the screen, they consume champagne whilst we hunt for remote grains.
My kin is slowly sinking into the sad soil from the purple pair’s pesticide campaign.
I paint my canvas of poetry in pigments of dismal despair.
They are the only words my brain can declare, I scrutinize them, seeking a breath of fresh air.
My life has become a blue, teary-eyed, sordid affair.
The only time I open my spirit and stare is at dawn when the palls play the symphony of the sunrise glare,
It's the only light I want to see and hear because I know it's golden and fair.
"Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion." Jim Rohn
The question: Am I open-minded, closed-minded, or delusional?
Sometimes, we mortals desire to believe in the unbelievable.
Therefore, we must choose our teachers and mentors wisely.
Wisdom says to wait and investigate before it is too late.
He who approves before 'taking one to school' is unwise.
To affirm without heavy questioning is foolishness.
Regardless of whether our field of endeavor is religion,
politics, or business, we must avoid dictators and deceivers.
A person or world in depression has little room for discretion.
If I am delusional, I have been deceived.
If deceived, I have accepted a false belief.
I have been overpowered or misled by persuasion.
I have trusted something or someone who's not trustworthy.
I am then ripe for the pickings by anyone desirous of my fruit.
For so during, I have become a victim like an ant in a spider's web.
I lack the necessary discipline to examine and scrutinize what has been
placed before me. The cleverness of the deceiver is such that I have
willingly legitimized and given accent and access to the forbidden.
"Every age yearns for a more beautiful world. The deeper the desperation and the depression about the confusing present, the more intense that yearning."
- Johan Huizinga
Within these white walls of wellness and weakness
lie labyrinths of life changing lies
Needless needles nip like nuisance nettles
Scary scans scrupulously scrutinize
Doctors dressed in drab garbs declare dreadful news
making moody me feel all the more miserable
Circumstances circle with cyst-like certainty
Persistent problems promote psychological pandemonium
Yearnings of yesterday yell and yammer for youthfulness
Lost in listlessness, I lament in laboured longing
"Each year children are left alone on a bus, this should never be "
Search the bus and scour off, have they left a trace?
Inspect each seat, scrutinize, inspect that tiny space?
They're so little they can be hide most any place.
Be vigilant and listen for their tightened breath, a cry !
Call them child then search them out, they don't want to die !
Afraid, scared and alone, one can miss a lonesome sigh !
Dim lit, damp and distant corner
torn from dream of vapor’s fold.
Slow descent to worlds divided,
nothing hot and nothing cold.
Long ago this soul forgotten,
cast off in the ides of youth.
Un-forgiven deeds left hiding
beneath the stone of burden’s proof
Wait to see if fate redeems her.
Wait to hear if time repeals.
Sentence passed down just to mar her.
Word and deed like flint and steel.
‘Jezebel!’ they mock to call her,
waging war against the skin.
Pressed on by the mob’s directive,
let the judgment now begin.
Scrutinize each blood stained footprint
left across the ice drawn field.
Hide the ones who hold her province.
Never bend. No, never yield.
For from that damp and distant corner
ever flows the world of hate
through the veins of those who think they…
hold the key to Heaven’s gate.
I value my ( own life )
I cherish the right to
Live in a freedom of
Human trial and error
Rather than a endless
Regurgitative existence
Composed of
Negativisam and terror.!
I've no wish to scrutinize
Childrens faces to know
If they they live in fear.?
Oh no..' unlike those; of
Grotesque desire and aim
Suzanna Reid and Naga with
dr hillary death' and and aging
Anchor Charlie: that is their
Game.! I only view the b b c or
I t v, 4 even' to sift among
Their lies.. Is it to sad to know,
This now..? New (Unsurprise!)
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