What would you choose to do if out for fun?
You'd read a hundred pages of ‘Tom Sawyer?
Eat lentil soup, and hug an old sequoia?
She’s seventy next year, and she’s no nun –
the Jackson number five is called La Toya.
Perhaps you’d like to serve on a destroyer?
Attack a kindergarten with a gun?
Compete at auction, to secure a Goya?
Or are you, by your nature, an annoyer?
Trump Tower bound, to desecrate the foyer?
(Have patience, Gentle Reader: almost done!)
Beware the bear-trap, verbal hurdle, pun.
It’s not pronounced ‘La Jolla’, it’s ‘La Hoya’:
Just take my word. Just trust me. I’m a lawyer.
She held a smile to her lips
Almost like a flame to a Pall Mall
It crackled for a moment and went out
Sometimes her smile can be like the wind.
It moves when you want it to stay and stays when
You want it to move.
I could tell you about it but in truth you
Must see it for yourself; Wait a second, I have
A snapshot in my wallet. That's okay it's not
A very good likeness. You can tell it is her
Mouth but you can't see the smile. You'll have
to take my word. Her smile left a trace in the
Photo-booth at the old five and dime. Every
Woman in town used the same booth as her smile
Because it made them appear beautiful. I may not
remember
Her name but I'll always be able to recall her smile
Don't look to the future. Don't look to the past.
Don't hold on to things that you know will not last.
The distance 'tween starting and ending is vast
But...
The moments we live in go by oh so fast.
One day we are here and the next we are gone
But even without us life goes ever on.
A beautiful sunset, then night, then the dawn
And...
All history gives in the end is a yawn.
Lessons we learn may help in the hereafter,
Carrying with us the tears and the laughter.
It won't make life any slower or faster
But...
Maybe makes time a companion, not master.
Test this for yourself and do not take my word.
To follow a fool is, of course, quite absurd.
The line between knowledge and wisdom is blurred
But ..
It can be achieved. At least that's what I've heard.
Touching on the silver glow.
When you touch it,
You'll know it.
It's designed to keep
You running back.
This Spiritual snack.
Keeping you open for attack,
As you sink back into the
World, askew and absconded,
Trying to conjure
Between worried wait:
The Science of the mind
And the love we thought we'd find.
Point me towards the house I will live in.
Let me punch in the numbers and access the pin.
I've guessed wrong more times than I can count.
But beyond the hill, they say, is a silver glow
Of limitless amount.
But don't take my word for it.
A little bird turd me about it.
Earthlings are pink and furry, they look like yetis spaceman said.
The king of Utombbiblia rolled his three eyes under his head.
That’s not the report I got from the last two missions, weirdly enough.
Take my word for it, spaceman argued. You know I know my stuff.
The king was confounded, confused, at a loss as to what to do next.
When had these scouting missions become so abnormally complex?
He did not realize this one had been captured by a giant pink Yeti.
The last two had been eaten by wild boars, as if they were spaghetti.
It is everybody's duty
To see all the hidden beauty
That shines bright if you just look
Everyone is a big open book
That is full of different chapters
Some have pain--others laughter
So please read someone before
You think they're a snooze and bore
Or ugly not worth your time
It would be a shameful crime
If you pass up a masterpiece
Because your eyes do not see
A best seller, you just judge
Take a moment--do not smudge
The pages of someone else
Putting them high on a shelf
You might be missing something great
Come on, do not hesistate
You could lose out on a friend
If you skip right to the end
Not learning what's at the start
Take my word--give it a shot
I'm wasting words and wasting time
Trying to explain this heart of mine
No easy task to understand
So take my word and take my hand
When I say
I love You more,
You may
have to take my word for it
Now that you know,
Maybe you’ll stop
Competing for the show
And just let me kiss you
Do not be a damn fool
Helping all just like that
Please change your rule
Then, joy you can get
None bothers about you
As all are self-centered
None will offer any rescue
Mainly greed has entered
You may move a big mountain
Or cross all the seven oceans
Still may criticize your captain
Showing badly bitter emotions
The best remedy, you will show
To extricate your whole group
This help, all may come to know
Still may arrange for your coup
Your mother alone will love ever
Like a perennial pleasant spring
She only will ever be a believer
As to you peace that may bring
So please take my word dear
Help all, but expect nothing
Preserve your own cheer
And be your own great King.
Never remain lazy and lose the chance
Be brisk and active to acquire success
When you just relax without any efforts
Your golden dream cannot be realized
If you remain passive with no dreams
You may come out as an also-ran man
Instead, if you move Heaven and Earth
Success will come to you by searching
Never limit your genius by surrendering
Think high and confidently enter the deal
Great rewards, you will reap definitely
Narrow not your mind by allowing fear
You win by taking steps with deep faith
Your success lies in your own hands
At times you may be standing on it
Due to its nearness, you may overlook
Giving up is an easy job that can be done
To you, now I ask, What is the use of that?
Just saying "no" and then staying damn idle
Will it bring any growth or mirth or glory?
My dear soul, take my word and think
Let us not rust by taking indefinite rest
Let us use all our faculties well to excel
Contributing usefully for World's welfare.
How can they say there is no God? I've always known He's there
to help and comfort in distress, illness, grief, despair
I felt his healing hand on mine when all seemed hopeless, drear
He saved me, helped me, healed me, relieved me of all fear
and now I have a clearer proof, that He is really there;
I've seen it in the sunrise, the sunset right up there
in the sky, above the clouds, flying through the air
to distant lands, and loved ones, unbelievably fair
No human hand could ever paint the colors that I saw
in gold and crimson, yellow, and many many more
He took me safely over the sea and brought me back.
I saw the sun, the moon, the stars, the sky, blue, grey and black;
So please, if any are in doubt, just take my word, I know
There IS a God, I've seen His work, down here, above, below.
Written by: Marian Munday
Dedicated to her loving daughter
Margaret Barron
She is a sweet docile being the baby key deer
I have no idea what to think, I cannot get very near
You can take my word for it, she is not a creature to fear
I strain my eyes to a window in overtime gear.
What is her name? I ask the man of the house, Mr. Dyfe.
I am not sure if we have named her, he said, asking his wife.
I call her sweetie pie, she tells us, she is full of mirth and life.
She shows no sign of struggle, stress, anxiety, or any kind of strife.
Is she almost a pet? I ask, truly wanting to know.
The husband acts weird about this. Ask so-and-so.
The daughter laughs with a giggle that has a warm glow.
She is a truly wonderful family member, this little doe.
i have never not
thought this much
about everything
all the time
all at once
i have never known contentedness
as i imagine it
is everyone’s perception the same
am i presumptuous
if not worry
consideration
if not weighing
contemplation
if
am i taking it too far
have i stretched the limit
of their assiduity
let me rephrase:
i needn’t.
i meant the first phrase
merely feared
miscommunication
as if it were mine to contain
i f’ing ooze responsibility
for anything meaningless
take my word
my word?
My word,
aren’t we getting big
for the britches
they hemmed us into?
Do please, your loins gird;
The pest is a bird:
Low-flying, sharp beak,
It’d outsmart The Weak!
Plainly take my word:
Leave the grazing herd
On plains, at the peak,
Your protections leak!
Scarecrow would pests cow
And pests won’t farms plough;
In your food-rich farm
The birds sure means harm…
Try you should Scare Crow.
I shall show you How:
‘Ugly clothes your balm
A shirt with one arm!
Their presence pest loathes:
Plants putting on clothes!
Wars have no winners –
in fact, one can rightly argue,
that only losers begin them;
their outcomes, medals, a song,
a poem – a pat on the back if
hands are left,
a museum sculpture,
some simple stone-words
or opulent monument – lasting peace
a marble of man's delusions –
don't take my word for it...
just read our long running
history....visit our honored
dead, if not for nameless
angels, overrun by weeds –
we rebuild again and again, our
protagonists material makers and
their gods of bombs....
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