Start a new year before the year arrives
Momentum starts with our inside minds
I took a week before 2026’s first peak
To make sure the wind carries my feet
Instead of charting a new goal post
I’m readying for surprises with a toast
Let God sort it out
Let God clear my doubt
Excited for growing pains
Excited for unexpected gains
We survived 2025 didn’t we?
Pass the mic to 2026, our new emcee.
The British Rail saying,
'See it, say it, sorted,'
is so annoying
it should be aborted.
Travelers, from abroad,
are befuddled then bemused,
when first by this phrase
their ears are abused.
But the worst is yet to come...
it sounds like, 'Sort it,'
over the tannoy
and must be fixed by he who caught it.
Gears to grind, grey grimace?
O ghoulish, gold to get?
Turtle, beneath carapace!
He who sleeps forgets!
The champion of the city?
A far off challenger?
This may not - Well, pity.
O for thee, sound! Sad? Sure...
Soul in care of, portal?
A sword will sort it out?
Heart blood, pump! Pour, poor pill!
Ravine rill runs the rout!
Fire-god, in a stern tall forge.
What there will we see?
Abyssal the chasm gorge!
Flickering flock, thy fee!
Guns atop the atoll?
This strategy worked when?
Downward plunge into thy hole!
O dragon, doom! Death! Den...
Rack of lamb for dinner?
Thy supper's sorely got.
O vampire, vine! The winner?
It couldn't be thee, thought.
Cold thy core, O bonfire?
It never seems to get.
Heaven and Hell, murk and mire!
Pinned down, O my pet!
It is not that I do not care
or your worries that I share
Your problems though they be
are not really about me
Sympathy not much
feelings out of touch
Concern forgive my yawn
angry I feel rather calm
Wrong or right
good or bad
let it be
I am sleepy
So stew on for awhile
I am neutral timid and mild
Maybe a nap and after I wake
we can sort it out, see what's at stake
Simmer down and go slow
ease off and let it go
If you blow your top
will it ever stop
Mediocre as it seems
dumb to others sure its deem
but important to you you you
for the hundredth time walk me through.
Gold on ancient atoll?
Gone be prospector's hope!
Gore, doth coat the brazen bull?
Golem, get the rope?
Best for those politest men?
Better think again.
Bone a-broken, dive in den?
Flicker on the fen...
Torn like life tormented?
Break upon, O wave.
How the gods lamented!
O shroud hung on the grave!
Yellow as a predator's eye?
Dun the desert doubt.
Riddles, rivers, thy reply?
Time will sort it out.
Plight of all the human race?
Leaving like a trace.
O defeated, thy disgrace!
Cholera, catch case!
Syllable, O sylvan!
Each to preserve a life!
Dreams once started, thus began!
Razor's edge or knife!
Wail, O watching widows?
We'd really rather not.
Soul a-sold, what doth ye owes?
Death, be but a thought!
I AM miles away in outer space sending a message to the human race
Your wildlife is dying in fields of fire
And your ice cap is melting as the temperature gets higher
You have so much plastic that fills your sea's
And your world is being infected by a new disease
You have a problem without a doubt
And you need to act now to sort it out
You have a hole in your ozone that is getting bigger
But your leaders denied this they laugh and s
So I am sending you this message from outer space
You need to save your planet and the human race.
Your intergalactic watcher
A. LIAN...
Aim dead center, O aeon!
Era, this is now.
Ergo, O my stern scion;
Come to anyhow!
Looking-glasses are like wind.
Reality grinned.
Terror, tiger, tamarind!
Sacred til he sinned...
Gaunt the gambrel goblin?
No smile a-face today.
Whirling dervish, loud the din!
War, be on thy way!
Grey of the nebula pond;
Why is waiting good?
Yellow-speckled viper yawned!
Gone but understood!
Kingdoms are like prophecies?
Yes, in this context:
Rife, roil, rampant, rare! Disease!
Hell and Heaven, hexed...
Sort it out, O sordid sigh...
Do not ask us why?
Sylvan silver, art thou shy?
Bargain basement buy?
Syllable, unleash thy wrath!
Letters, break the chain!
Poems, place us on the path!
Language, take the lane!
Young is this old harpsichord?
Harpy, use a sword?
Bull, matador. Which gets gored?
Folly gets you floored.
Holly. Mistletoe, thy doom.
Poison, flow like wine.
Ivy, rune, ice, ancient tomb.
Cyanide strychnine.
He is a crackshot I told his great-grandpa
Grandpa misheard; he thought I called him a crackpot
It took awhile for us to sort it out
In the meantime, grandpa was angry, showing a pout.
Not sure he ever fully understood
The beginning of dementia is never good.
If you can help yourself.? And yet not harm another, you're doing real well (dear sister dear brother!) If you can resist the pressure.? For it seems always to come.?? It sort of pops
Right up.' Then it's slander' And to spare..Also advice on how you might be missing out? Then some' and its
Because of the selfish..The cooker; larrakin' or lout.? And who got hurt?? Well many roundabout..!!
All normal people (the type who'd?) Well give it a go.' Ya know, that seems like me.?
Or even you.' Not evil just mis-guided.' When we think it through?? And so? who got rich? And
Like honoured and such? grubs like joyce, Andrews, adern, mcgowan..Thats rough.) Yet wer're clever enough don't worry bout that, the real Aussies' ll sort it, and that makes me feel glad' i reckon ten million; are now wide awake.' Bet they're fuming at that joke in 2020.?
Yeah it wasn't that great.' So now clear your minds, help the injured, protect young minds it's
A Billy a brewing, you can almost taste the outpour, just keep working untill the cavalcades
Roar.' Thank God, He is patient
Let the children not be….
For transient peace to be…
In the burrow…
Let them not linger in their rooms
Doing what they want to…
Let them be frayed…
Let there be light & enlightenment for all
Not just a select few…
Let the children not be…
Let the shape not sort it out
Just for peace to be…
…coffers unlimited they don’t have
…the shape of things to come,
so think the delusional!
Let the Children be
...an inspiration
...to lead the way forward
Not give in to the piffles and trifles
Not just to tell the time
Big Ben!
Ding Dong!
Irene boxed it all up and took it outside.
There were five thousand one hundred and twenty-five boxes.
If you sort one box every day, you will have this sorted in no time.
Irene was a mathematician.
She divided it out.
If she sorted one box a day
It would take her fourteen years to sort it all out.
She went back inside and got a match.
The fire burned for three days
Great surfing you may not have guessed
can be found in the upper northwest.
In a full rubber suit
the great whites think looks cute,
the dawn patrol shreds the gnar best.
Seems the beaches were starting to groan;
the supports underneath were all blown.
But now that Ozempic
has come to Olympic,
it appears they will stand on their own.
Once fleshy, vivacious, with curves,
Bone Beach is now lacking in verve.
When whales get reported,
the lifeguards who sort it
have nothing but sinews and nerves.
How I long to see Baywatch again,
and the slow motion bounce for the win!
Although healthy is wise,
put some meat on those thighs
or those bones will protrude through your skin.
*No direction for this. I'm going to attempt a one shot off the top and see what happens... It's worked before.*
I get this question a lot
I'm a dyslexic introvert with Asperger's
More clutter than not
My mind has so many things
It's hard to sort it out
I start on one subject
But it's always roundabout
Fifteen subjects later
I remember how to end the first thought
Most people have already walked away
Their patience completely shot
My tone is loud and direct
Most people call me an a**hole
I mean no disrespect
It's hard to correct something when you don't know what you're doing
My wife calls me dense and stupid sometimes
Leaves my confidence utterly ruined
If there was a way to declutter
I'd do it without a second thought
But then I wouldn't know anything
And my creativity would just stop
*This needs a major overhaul to become something decent to read. But I churned it out in less than 10 minutes.*
Take Fast vitamin D,
To get the head out of the water,
Stop the images process asks reason,
The images, in general, think of the TV, attack us,
One must know how to escape often,
To meditate in every possible silence,
In all the divine lights, enligthning lights,
Lights whose soul is strengthened, like a wild animal,
Let’s sort it out, get away,
We deserve the song of the rivers,
The song of mountains, thick forests,
That song where our voice echoes,
Above the valleys and busy men,
Above the dangerous chimes,
Deo gracias! Deo Gracias! Say these precious songs!
She had a bit of a problem
Of which she was reluctant to disclose
Her wardrobe was full to overflowing
With a wild array of clothes
She justified this behaviour
By insisting it was cheap stuff
Purchased from the op shops
She couldn't get enough
Because it was so cheap
She'd buy three things instead of one
Her shirts multiplied in dozens
And her dresses by the tonne
The day eventually arrived
The wardrobe door would close no more
The drawers were overstuffed
Things were piled up on the floor
Clearly drastic action was needed
And obviously, without a doubt
This would require some discipline
And red wine to sort it out
Hours later, knackered and dishevelled
She had reduced her clothing stash
She promised never to repeat this mistake
And instead save herself the cash
She staggered to the op shop
Weighed down with bags of gear
But naturally, there was a sale on
And really, she had nothing left to wear...
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