By Sixes
With this book we have to make a difference
The weight of worry and seriousness is huge
This has not happened before not this way
And very soon all things could happen
They try to control it but can they?
How do you control so many soldiers?
Along with the other shooters
Planes ships launchers tanks and more
Myself I've never felt this way
Except briefly in the early 80s
The world moved on in most ways
But not in Putin's head for him
He alone wants his empire back
And will ruin the world to get it
This is why we all must not fail
And stop him from winning
Even if the unthinkable happens
It has already started the walk
Sleep walking to Armageddon
NATO and Russia and the rest
This is really it...
Roll the dice now...
hope for six, not a seven.
Crapped out, snake eyes!
I was asked to be a substitute teacher
For kindergarten. Wow. Sounds like a blast I think.
Sure. I’d love to, I say.
This was at 8:42 a.m.
By 9:00 I realized
Kindergarten is tough.
Tougher than teaching menopausal kangaroos.
These mighty five-and-six-year-olds were
In complete control.
Me being the way I am.
I tried to run away a couple of times.
But the ringleaders kept grabbing me
And tossing me back into the waiting
Arms of the followers.
I got as far as the water fountain once,
But pretty soon I quit struggling,
Realizing I was a cracker
Being held hostage
By an ant brigade.
Kindergarten.
Wow!
It's six o'clock,
but not for the birds,
for them, it's four-play.
God says,"Be there, or be square,"
because He's Lord of the times,
not Jehovah of old, knows
that slang and jargon,
keep the young in the fold.
Winter-white in a summer made
snowy, sea gulls assemble,
"aide memoire" who rules here.
They've mastered the moves,
but he's the conductor, and I, lady
of the lake have a season pass
for these Swan Lake show-stoppers,
their circles and dives, their "pas
de deux's", or sixes, or sevens, that
finish in the clouds in a curtain call
unfound by the married to ground.
God sends His ballet each day
where it belongs. Take Heart! He
says: My birds are words
beyond language, beyond
wings, beyond songs.
Somewhere decorum, somewhere pandemonium
Somewhere parsimony, somewhere bleeding heart
Somewhere love, somewhere hatred
Somewhere revenge, somewhere forgiveness
Somewhere bondage, somewhere liberty
Somewhere eccentricity, somewhere selflessness
Somewhere egoism, somewhere humility
Somewhere complexities, somewhere simplicity
Which ones to permit the soul?
To acclimatise and dominate
Life keeps changing every spur
Discrepancies are inevitable
To be water or a rock?
Will it attain a pool of boundless solitude?
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