there was a young lad from Atholl
who claimed he was large and natural
one night it was said
with Flo in bed
she said actually you have a major shortfall
To know that you know, shakes fragile ground
under what's unanswerable
crying out for the answers
to why this—that occurs
we bridge the gap with
a mythical
solution
put in
charge
here
there
ceding control
to omniscient servitude.
We know we can't master storms nor fate
nor read the grammar of seasons.
So we summon intention
to order the chaos
from the know-it-all
we put in charge,
we can name,
blame and
damn
as
cause
for all the gaps
in our shortfall of knowings.
We see how causes fail, fall away
as our knowledge and learning grows.
With the mystical dwindling
to explain, it recedes
into the background
left to beliefs
held by faiths
yearning
to
be
made
a whole being
spiritually complete.
Light, what a spectrum
Of seven colours in all!
So is life of some
That always shows a shortfall
Of one or two, if not all.
Life's search of the shade
Missing-- if so felt at all,
If not, the life’s made!
___________________
Tanka | 32.10.2025 | life, light, spectrum, shades/colours
Note: ‘Missing, if felt so at all’, this Tanka says. Why? Even just three basic colours can give rise to many shades by combinations. If one feels no shortfall at all, he has made the life, the search ends, the journey ends. He’s liberated.
Frail heart's are weak minded bigots
I felt this disturbance enter into the light
this cold dark cloud burning below zero
it sends the shivers coming from its shadow
The broken record begins scratching a surface
ingrowing putting the needle between words
sewn deeply rooted the reflection appears mirrored
frozen watching this crossover
it all happens without conflict in the company of wolves
Ripping to shreds rights and other human truths
a journey begins in order for us to open our eyes
to see we must start exercising to earn virtues of humility
Without Grace at the helm souls will sink
impurity has adopted so many bad habits
it hates to stop
inappropriately it sits back and watches the seed of destruction flourish
The Truth will rise from ashes of despair moulded
in the end we need to internally examine this shortfall
and overcome our weaknesses making progress acceptable
hence we can always live for a better future with God
The starting point is one:sixteen
God’s power through faith foreseen
One:seventeen’s righteous decree
Salvation by faith is the key
Three:twenty-three indicts us all
Sin’s “glory of God” shortfall
Four:three is Abraham’s lead
Faith the only righteous deed
Five:eight provides a Substitute
Sin had left us destitute
God’s love delivered up His Son
The payment for sin is done
Sidestep death in six:twenty-three
Eternal Life in Christ is free
No condemnation in eight:one
Never separated from God’s Son
Ten:nine-and-ten is the TNT
“Salvation power for faith in Me”
With your mouth you confess it
With your heart you accept it
“Believe My promises” in ten:thirteen
Jesus Christ our go-between
Faith in Him the only condition
For Kingdom of God admission
A critical ally that rears and screams,
Only to extend this metaphysical play.
Where time becomes both friend and foe,
And when a shortfall leads to delay.
Realistically, the battleground is for truth,
That is far beyond the politically correct.
Where the roots of such a grand deceit,
Can be pulled & torn apart, not used to deflect.
While the illusion is indefensible, soldiers
Dig-in with offensive rhetoric they announce.
As if a child, throwing sticks and stones,
Can find some victory, while they denounce.
This conflict is simply a war of words . . .
Although explosions grow as they employ.
Yet when the carnage is looked upon in the
Aftermath, did the damage also destroy?
If we view this dramatic tragedy, with open
Eyes and critical thinking, utmost . . .
We just might rebuild this fragile democracy,
And avoid an antiquated, republican provost.
Had it been for the rolling ball
Elegantly you would slot with no shortfall
Artistically you play with hearts
Reaping a bumper to fill your huts
Teaming up for other minds; hurts.
Playing for thy lust wound to stitch,
Isolate everlasting harm on the pitch
Eschew a hit from the gun
Rather than chewing the lethal gum,
Castigate their state of illusion
Igniting flashing lights of vision
Nurture living minds to be broad
Gather them till they see the road.
Prick thyself on skin
Leave and do to a pumpkin
Agitate if you feel the pain
Yet to me you leave infatuation stain.
Emancipate self from storms of mischief
Re-embark on strategies to combat grief
Is a rhyme poem about rhyme
the heart it fill
or the thought in mind
Is it pointless if it forced and fault full
though it rhymes gets slated as not thoughtful
yet can be credited if filled with words in shortfall
and devalued by common words more normal
If a nun found a gun
on a day most glum
a day sunless and she undressed
Nundressed ponder the pun less
then she went for a run a fun run a nun fun run a nude nun fun run
and she was the one that won becoming the new champion
as the nude nuns on the fun run finished bum by bum
causing her to excite jump and fall bum first
as she had never come first as her dizzy eyes see sights
though the day dark as night
fooling the mind to a new height
a new high a nude high a new nude nun high
not for everyone mind but nicely above old heights
feeding a fear that sees her shoot a dear
The bullet bang so loud and clear
witnessed by many surrounding near
piercing ears can’t hear
yet this sudden ending
Whenever I see a sycamore tree
I get homesick
Now it's like I am shooting up roots
In another direction
Where viewer discretion is advised
The sycamore tree grows tall
Yet I have shortfall
Coz when its branch breaks it don't breakeven
The sycamore grows in time
But I never grew with freedom
Let my independence be retribution
For breaking out of confined institutions
Always suffering illusions of self affliction
It is a suicidal addiction
Sycamore you are evergreen
And my life is just upscene
This is a poem about somebody else
So don't worry yourself
The devil is right there in the details
You don't want to hurt yourself
For looking too closely
What have I become my sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away in the end
We get what we deserve
If we only let die and let live
Truth is like blood under your fingernails
You don't want to hurt yourself
By looking too closely
You right there in the mirror
Don't kid yourself
Looking too closely
Maybe I get famous as the man that can't be moved
I’m the man that can be moved
Inspired by the sycamore tree
Growing tall and can't be moved
Growing to the air and
Blowing in the wind care free….
Love
Written: by Tom Wright
6/17/2018
One’s love isn’t expressed,
By mere words we say.
But it’s in our actions,
Occurring within each day;
Love isn’t just a word,
To be interjected with ease.
Then once it’s orated,
To just do as we please.
We can’t show little regard,
For the needs of another;
Then introduce the “L” word,
For this wrong to cover;
We can’t do little things,
Which drives a spouse up the wall.
While casting a blind eye,
To our character shortfall;
Get the balance right
In space
Where zero gravity drains your limbs
Of strength
Circumnavigating the earth
The place of your birth
You miss through misty porthole
Contemplating the glaring shortfall
All we ever wanted
All we ever needed
Is in the power of our hands
We can only do harm
And are oblivious to the deafening
Sound of the Alarm
Trump's Trade War with China
Is breaking all our backs
With increasing prices
And increasing tax
Trump wants us to buy
Everything from Trump
So his wealth increases
And we are the chump
Trump enterprises
No longer pay tax
We must pay that shortfall
On our children's backs.
Members of Congress
Seem blind, deaf, and dumb
But love to be counted
'Neath Donald Trump's thumb.
Your grandchildren need
One sensible Act:
Impeach Donald Trump
& repeal Trump's impact.
Scattering spellbound in search of this utopia
Minds-eye in shortfall dissects one's monopoly
Through no choice of own approach it sloppily,
Exude to a position such promised, Ethiopia-
As the diminishing dream on landscapes ensemble
The probate illusion of Queen of Egypt's daughter
Who proceeds through this escapade of slaughter
And who am I forgiving one or either? I tremble.
Having reached two thousand years without absorb
Of having travelled miles, indeed was bronze;
Such ghastly size these statues, long lost sons
With indications seen through my crystal orb.
Precious filling educated, siphoning the syllable
Retracted.., words of larger scale were of faith
Those who muttered sounding, Queen Merneith,
-Alluring dynasties as Anedjib's was, as a fable-
Engulfed over as subsidiary benefactors cannibal
Over some archaeological find, for at the centre,
No godly size can interpret that this magenta,
Haze of gross sufficient was the alluring spectacle.
Expedient gauge eclipse this as the inferno;
And making this voyage with the help of a globule,
Whose crystal awareness has forgotten the rule,
That language hosts devise quoted, 'quid pro quo'.
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