I faced the demons of my past,
only upon myself, judgement I cast.
To clear to clean, and to understand,
the true workings of my hand.
To grow, to flourish and to shine,
as I now make the present mine.
Only in the moment, I choose to live,
only of myself, judgement I give.
To keep God alive, and upon His throne,
to keep my heart from turning to stone.
Each one I faced, I also overcame,
with all its sorrows, hurts and pain.
With this knowledge and wisdom, you see,
from the demons of the past, I am set free.
To be able to see, to know and to understand,
the true workings of our hand.
Sticks and stones will break your bones, and words destroy the heart,
the truth reveals our wrongs,
and shows us how to start.
fribbling squibbling marshmallow sticks
flipping, flopping, doing amazing tricks
marching down main street with hillbilly hicks
one does a cartwheel, landing on hot bricks
just did that for kicks! Just did it for kicks!
hilarious malarious, marshmallow sticks!
Wee Willy Winkie
and three wee pigs
had a wee drinkie
more than a swig
before going to bed
but woke in the wee hours
with a sore head
and the need to wee so
into the woods
behind a tree they did go
(one pig collected twigs)
when outside in the wee distance
there came a wild wee howl
oh no... the Big Bad Wolf
then was heard more than a wee growl
altho' not spent yet afeared for their lives
a wee farther to roam
Winkie's wee willie and three wee pigs
went wee wee wee all the way home
The muse has no fingers
Possesses no internal abacus
Cannot fathom fractious patterns
…take one word from line A
And two from line B
Skip line C
Use it as line D
Drop C into C
With six you get Egg Roll
Hate me slate me or berate me
call me names it's all the same I don't care
to my mind it's no more than
hogwash simply put just hot air
the proclivities of others
I don't judge
and their predilections
I won't begrudge
I live and let live
as I too do have mine
but tresspass on my territory
there's where I draw the line
tho' non-violent
step on my toes
and believe you will receive
a black eye or bloody nose
And the hearse did rehearse its path,
Though the skeleton held dearly
To his ground, smiling loud.
He was bare - needed a shroud,
With his straight bow, grinned severely.
For it seems, he’ll not move ever.
There’s his calcified stick figure,
Who’s not shamed in the least.
For on earth, his time’s increased.
Seems he’s stuck in mortis-rigor.
You speak to me of sticks and stones
I recall you tossing me aside
Who am I without my God?
In stillness I fall
Quiet screams tear out of my mouth
Broken and afraid I cling to shadows
Under the sun I sought my Father
With joy I found him inside my shell
Deep inside of me you are a light
Water for my thirst
Refuge for my times of trouble
I found you in my mirror staring back at me
Your eyes behind my eyes
Your breath behind my breath
I open my hand touch the glass and know you are inside of me
You are my salvation in you I find peace
you
may of heard iT said,
"sticks and stones may bReak my bones,
but word's will never hUrt me."
buT
the trutH is,
"STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES,
BUT WORDS CAN KILL ME!"
Sticks
Sticks made up of
only bitterness and
resentment felt about
most things rule
Elmwood Reserve. They’re terribly great at
gymnastic feats needing
great skill, fast movement, and,
of course,
balance.
Strapped Sticks
Little things to
get strapped sticks with iron tip for
their birthday: onesies, steel cap hiking boots or
shoes, thick shocks too,
stickers to
adorn or to
simply make statements genuine and
beautiful, Food World gift cards, tents thick
blankets, pillows, and
so forth.
Why does the longing of lived wax melt clean off your wicks?
Oh, how do you hold a capillary existence fending off the ticks?
Over and over to lay wasted during the cold times, of treats and tricks
Daylight will return beauty to you in magical ways after the season of the sticks
Save your strength, take time to slumber; why be awake to witness the politics?
Why has creepy ego appeared?
D.T. by some sickos was reared!
He fears loss as sin
And smears all to win
But clearly his veneer is...weird
I like to write a verse or two, I do it all the time
Oftentimes it’s limericks, and sometimes perfect rhyme
But this is not my hobby, it’s just something that I do
I have a hobby and I write, but can’t combine the two
Hitting balls with sticks is what I do to get my fix
I aim the balls at grassy holes to give me further kicks
Hitting balls with sticks is what I do with Uncle Rolf
I call it hitting balls with sticks… cos nothing rhymes with golf.
Okay, all you clever clogs, I guess I must concede
That Rudolf is another choice, on this we are agreed
So, come that jolly time of year when holly decks the halls
Uncle Rolf can hold my sticks… while Rudolph holds my balls
They dubbed him Sticks at Epoch's tip
when hitherto matter none neither you
of matter grasped that awed amassed
was all he cared and none who'd dare
his love of sticks made jokes he exists
baton they'd be, had two and not one
that's why he's sick name's not, sticks
no, it should be sick; like mentally sick
course, it was said but ne'er his stead
except for one whose heart's not won
he swore a day written Suite he'll play
lost how plays Suite without his sticks
that day of days be-he did play suitely
all saw hero sits, light shone his sticks.
A rhino's eyesight is really myopic,
Perhaps that's what makes him so misanthropic.
His hearing and reflexes, though, are sublime,
He can turn on a nickel and stop on a dime.
The projection that grows
On the end of his nose
Is not really a horn, though,
As one might suppose.
And when he needs scratching,
There's another small hitch,
His legs are too short
So he can't reach the itch.
He's ugly, pugnacious,
Rude, and unsociable,
And his manners at mealtime
Are simply atrociable.
And should you insult him,
He'll never reveal it.
His hide is so thick
He prob'ly won't even feel it.
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