We've had; the Stone Age, Bronze Age,
Iron Age, Ice Age, Industrial Age too,
a thought about what man hath wrought
and the not-too distant future view.
It's now the AI Age we're living in,
yet, wouldn't take much persuasion,
or a second guess, to believe it's somewhat akin
to nothing more or less than an Alien Invasion.
Always waiting anticipating
and for what
the other shoe to drop
the sky to fall
or nothing at all
in agitation expectation
a second guess
creating stress
it seems to me
where none need be
take a break
from how you make your bed
as you must lie in it
perhaps even die in it
either way it's in your head
and you may feel it's real
but here's a clue for you
it's your reprieve
imagination
is only make believe
THEOLOGY is the study of God
HISTORY is 'His Story'
EVERLASTING life was God's original plan
RELIGION is man-made approaches to God
EVE was deceived by Satan
ADAM was totally irresponsible
SATAN used a serpent to lie
OBEDIENCE was 'Job One'
NEVER doubt or 'second guess' God
WORSHIP God alone; not self, things, or people
EVIL and death go hand in hand
DEATH eternal is the final wages of sin
IMMORTAL bodies will never die, but live forever
ETERNITY is the reward for obedience to God
There once was an umpire called Bird
Who always had the last word
He never had to second guess
The abominable DRS
Nowadays it’s all become rather absurd.
There are moments I catch my reflection
and quietly wonder—
What the hell am I doing?
I start to doubt myself,
question my worth,
second-guess every decision.
But then I look up at the stars
and remember—
beautiful things are born
only after they’ve exploded.
So I’ll keep feeling everything,
resist the urge to numb my thoughts,
and let myself erupt—
a brilliant, messy
explosion of thoughts,
of feelings.
Even when the voices say:
Conform.
Fit in.
Don’t be too much.
I’ll burn brighter because of it.
Inner critic I try to silence
Inner critic it makes itself at home,
It started years ago keeps me up at night, don’t bother being kind because it will just second guess your meaning.
I've tried everything to turn it down
But it don't fight fair (fair), and it's always there (there)
Inner critic won't let no one close
Makes me doubt the ones that care the most
'Cause this parasite ('site) is the jealous type..
Why can't I ever let me win?
Why can't I take a compliment?
'Cause everyone says the nicest things
But I'm never good enough for me
Why can't I let myself feel loved?
Am I afraid I'll mess it up?
Something is broken in my brain
I'll never be good enough for me..
Inner critic never been this loud,
It’s starting to come my outer critic ..
Judging poetry contests is as easy as comparing a hog to a car
Or a tub of lard to a gasoline engine and a movie star
Trying to be objective is not in the equation at all
comparing unlike things to each other is a likely fall
some are witty, others do not follow a single contest rule
I laugh at some, others are so well written they make me drool
Rght away I sort them into piles of two – one good, one not so much.
Cannot divulge my secret, but it would infuriate my Aunt Dutch
She likes everything to fit into a tidy little clean box up high
Judging poems against each other makes me roll an eye
How do you say this one is good, and that one is not
When none share a purpose, is that all you’ve got?
I used to moan and wail and torment myself with the result.
Now when I second guess my finalists, I yell “Halt!”
Just put the top three in a shake up order and try again.
The gold always rises to the top no matter what shape I’m in.
Constantly trying the best you can
to be the rock and stand without one.
You know they need you but left sad,
who’s there if you are the one hurting?
It makes you want to cry and yell back,
but you recognize they can’t control it.
It’s harder than it seems, you think:
‘Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.’
Viciously taking out their lows on you,
because you’re the one within reach.
Taking cheap shots you’re their target
even if you care about them the most.
With each mood swing they lash out
only to apologize for it five minutes later.
Emotional whiplash leaves a mark
you start to second guess your sanity.
It’s harder than it seems, you think:
‘Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.’
I hate to say this but it’s the truth,
you can’t be of service and risk yourself.
Crying and feeling anxious aren’t normal,
an empty cup will become a domino.
What made you a pillar will start to fall,
the strong can be victims in this crisis too.
It’s harder than it steems, you think:
‘Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.’
did you wake today as someone else
the one who hides what she can't mend?
who once ran wild toward open doors
but now just breaks and learns to bend?
do you remember how it felt
to dream without a second guess?
before the noise & before the guilt
before survival meant this mess?
when did you trade your rest for rush
your joy for tasks that drain you thin?
when did you start to shrink yourself
just to be worthy & just to win?
no shame for getting lost like this
but tell me love, when all is through
if your soul asked who you became
would you still recognize it’s you?
We spoke in ways the soul would bleed,
no second guess, no hidden need.
You knew my silence, I knew your tears,
we stitched our hearts across the years.
But time, that thief, with silent hands,
unwound the ropes of where we stand.
The words grew cold, the nights grew long,
and we forgot our favorite song.
We didn’t fight, we didn’t scream,
we simply faded like a dream.
Still loving loud but speaking low,
still holding on, yet letting go.
You feel my breath across the miles,
I wear your memory in my smiles.
But somehow love was not enough,
sometimes even soulmates give up.
It hurts to know, it hurts to see,
how close we are, how far we be.
Two broken stars that used to shine,
now lost somewhere between the lines.
And though I’ll love you all my days,
it’s buried deep beneath the haze.
A bond untouched, but never whole —
two bodies close, two drifting souls.
Still, you’re my favorite, through every scar,
I’ll always love you — more than you'll ever know by far.
It burns real sore..Much despair is tendered.' Like it or not? Like could your soul be up-ended?
Its under the fence.? Beyond those pales.' It whispers there are screams; and epic fails.'
An example of the ducking stool.? No matter your standing ( the labelling tools?) Are blunt
And forcefully handled. Too...' ad-nauseum Rules.. dunk dunk dunk.' We observe the thunk,? And
Timbreless'ness second guess..Or ten thousand more 'artificial input un-topical' man are
These doughnuts RAW.!! I guess chocolate is their vanilla? Who nightmared this up? In a
Tangle of interdiction.' At an insanity hub.? Ekow.' and how! my summation in the main, I think.? I guess.
They are out.' Yet never free.' There just seems to be no gain? Is this just like 'twister?' From those
Who have an allergy to deeper games' such as chess.? Or bridge? Or poker.? Or any thing that.. Tries your wits.' ENOUGH.! Of such boring format." With choice straightjacket? Or chocolate
Suit.?
Am I good enough for love and happiness?
I love fiercely and honestly, with understanding and compassion.
I have been broken too many times to count or remember.
I always question and second guess everything, I can’t help that.
I’ve been lied too so much, I hardly trust myself with the feeling of love showed to me I can’t really tell or or trust my heart that it’s real.
I am broken and shattered. Trying to build myself back up. But I’m lost and unsure of what to do.
I am feeling like I’m falling in love, but am I just loosing myself even more?
All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved truly and unconditionally, like I have loved everyone else around me.
Am I worth even loving? Am I someone’s everything? Or is that just a false sense of hope?
Do I mean anything to anyone? Am I the reason someone wakes up and is happy?
Or is this all in my head, the illusion of being wanted and loved.
Mentally I’ve been broken down to the point I can hardly even recognize myself, let alone trust the feelings I am feeling.
The one question that echos in my head daily and even minute by minute is this….
AM I GOOD ENOUGH
My phone is my connection to the world
All my friends text me
Every single day
Influencers tell me what to think, do, and say
Everyone I admire is here with one click
Movies are at my fingertips
From the time I wake up
Until late at night
I'm glued to my phone
Oh what a sight
Momma says," Put away your phone.
You're missing out!"
How can that be
I can see every music video
Medication for when I'm sick
Even clothes to wear
Thats pretty slick
If I have a question
My phone will second guess me
Sends information from across the web
Matches my browsing while I am in bed
Momma says," The influencers are instigators and don't let you think.
All the text messages
Are repeats and stink.
If you want to see the world,
Give it a whirl without your phone.
You might be surprised,
At what you will find!"
Freshly brewed fog and a fall rain,
the mist could transform to a beast;
Winds might swirl becoming a frog
pulsing so loud inside your throat;
You’ll second guess and feel insane
when elevated fears are greased;
Hit that plot twist with no prologue
left rolling in those tales remote;
Bring that quill back to analog,
tranquilize this poet’s stained note.
Shes a huntress
least that offend you
I have a fictional affair
with my cat
All she wants is love and warmth
Her eyes follow me
her paws entangle my hands
The elixir of her dighty breath
is unearthly
She not outstare me
She knows my moods
although I can never second guess hers
She ages with dignity
I indulge her with my feelings
Her countenance knows withstanding
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