Today is a beyond a special day
Today something inside me turned
The fog in my mind has vanished
Like waking from perfect night sleep
God has injected me energy so dense and deep
An ocean of clean clear energy not seen in years
I’ve begged my God for this for years
I’ve wept and drank self-harmed to cope
Today God returned clarity back to me
My turn, my time, my life, on His timetable
Those around me have heeded this miracle I speak
Finally, I knife through my thoughts like cutting sushi
With my mind back I can barely hold back
I must lavish today and pass God's gifts to another
No ships are mooring at this bay
No ferries dragging to and fro
The visitors that come to stay
The next day pack their bags and go
No planes are landing at this airport
The timetable display is dark
We won’t be welcomed to the board
To be ascended like that lark
The sea’s in sprawling stains of oil
A smell of burning fills the air
The birds lay dead on poisoned soil
Stay home, it’s dangerous out there
Is it the phase of evolution?
Some side effects from climate change?
Authorities have no solution
Stuck in an intermediate stage
There’s no escape, no destination
But nonetheless, I’m thinking of
A better time in reservation
When I evolve in you, my love.
Hope lives on
from an anchor on the inside
of our hearts and minds
like the flaring light beckoning
from a lighthouse sent from God
renewing our trust in him
following his spiritual discipline
according to his exclusive timetable
he has prepared before us
“What’s it all about, Alfie?”—
Are they hedonistic choices—and the katabatic void they leave?
This cup’s clutter, this timetable of supplejack sighs.
If the moon forgets—will it ever call us back?
Are we meant to have beyond what we bestow?
Or are we required to be seraphim?
We chase glitter, blind to its lamplight and oil.
Alfie, if a fool shows no interest,
Is revenge the clever answer?
And if life belongs only to the strong—
What’s your wager on the sphinx’s ancient rule?
Our aspirations fold like creased napkins—
still clean enough for an evasive guest.
Love? A leftover coat on the wrong hook,
a name spoken softly, reshaped when no one listens.
Hope? A medium-rare object—
warm in the middle, a blush of pink.
Never raw, though.
And relevance? The hum between two clashing chords—
your laughter mocking silence.
“What’s it all about, Alfie?” then…
Perhaps nothing.
Perhaps everything.
Or simply this:
You hesitate—and maybe that’s the answer.
Occasionally, I arouse an unaccountable dislike
Even from those who love me
I don't give any reasons, none at all.
Maybe that's a reason.
But then why don't I dislike them?
I have no desire for perfection at all
It might seem pretentious, but it's true.
I accept everything as it comes. This insidious advice
I heard from the Doors when I was a kid. A variation on the theme of time
And an echo of the end. Everything ends, and not according to a timetable
For there's no timetable, though someone sees it
And knows when my train is coming
But will I attend in time, depends on a happy occasion.
The train will take me to the plane.
I’ll make a change, to get to you.
Otherwise, there’s no me.
Maybe its for the better
No one will be troubled to notice
Such a subtle matter, as someone's absence.
Seems that I lost the thread of
What I was talking about. Nevermind.
Just take me as I am
You know me better than I know myself
Now I feel like a scallop on a scree, who lost the shell
Rescue me under your shade
Look at me with your loving look
That I know so exceedingly well
Give us a chance, while we are here
Who knows for how long this time.
If loving you harder allowed you to stay then my goal remained the same
All because letting you go was a story words would formulate
It was detriment to my brain
Alter of reality
To see you leave
It was the disappearing of what could have been
The end to my timetable of forever and then
A memory to hold
As our stories unfold
Praying to keep you closer to home
Allowing you to leave, without giving up hope
Speaking words to the universe adding words to our verse
As pages were written and vows held doubt
Where those once, roses, dried up in drought
Where our love grew distant and our time ran out
Because loving you harder
Brought continuous showers
As we drowned in rumored hour
With eyes on other desires
Setting souls on fire
Entered temptation, and
Our love grown sour.
Our love came with a timetable
Lasting longer in memory than physically
Pushing time as endless
Stating what may not be right now, will be later
A fib told as long as tales
Because doesn’t love still prevail?
What once felt like a magic, now feels like a lie
As I uncover the truth, a tear falls from my eye
Your love was a mirage, an illusion I chased
And to find out it was fake, leaves me feeling misplaced
Like a child with a toy, you played with my heart
Toying with my emotions, you were so slick from the start
Leading me on with lies
As I'm left picking up the pieces, picking up the ties
Your agenda was selfish, your intentions was unclear
You kept your true intentions so very near
My heart now broken, by the love that you fake
And it will take time to realise this on my own timetable fate
In the end, my love proved true
But yours fell short, beneath my view
So here's to moving on, finding new love.
If you come to my occasion
Maybe birthday or dedication
You'll be to me like a red rag to a bull
Asking for rice knowing the price of a bagful
Our common and daily food
Is becoming an august food
Either our leaders aren't aware
Or they just don't care
This continuous bulging in the price of rice
Coming from a government thought will be super-nice
Is nothing but a rape of hope
Pushing the masses to where they'll never be able to cope
With the lamentation of those who market rice in bagful(s)
And the masses that don't have their pocketful
We don't need a teacher to tell us that the situation has become rotten
Yet they want to make the rotten situation golden
Those who failed to achieve their pocketful of promises
See this rottenness as golden to make many more promises
Our situation is either feast or famine
Which we all need to examine
The rapes and the ravages are too many
that make us pickle
While the precautions are too little that make us tingle
In their timetable they've made it turn by turn
It's left for us to learn or continue to yearn
Cosmos, the element of who we are
seraph of breath
through anger
and euphoria
this is the body
Waiting for lighting.
Blessed with a low temblor,
A lesser-known form, stringy hooks,
The weak pry that forms the glasswork
stand firm
storm wakes up
Calm down ebbs
lever and lock
sparse timetable
unfold and describe the owl.
to broadcast;
to make
a hollow
swag left
from the pole, wooden
we rise above the wind farm
anniversary
our swirled fossils stitched
our disaster set
hold aspirin
digitalin
digitoxin
adrenalin &
Epinephrine
sustained
by our soul
even if you think you mistook it
there
it endures
every time
Written: October 14, 2022
It got birth in twenty November,
Month of students are doing paper,
2017 and 19 I become are member,
That is in November.
If you will not be aware,
There is no time to prepare,
You can't change anywhere,
That is in November.
If you do in fear,
Everything will become disappear,
Any work you can't appear,
That is in November.
Month of geting rain,
Other people get ill and pain,
Alot of wild animals and vegitation,
That is in November.
Brocken of roads and become weak,
Timetable interact for all week,
Time you espect you can't meet,
That is in November.
In this month there is no teach,
In the village villagers come rich,
Cellebrate like are in the ,
That is in November.
Month of enjoying stage,
People are geting marriage,
Without looking their age,
That is in November.
Month which I care,
Remain few days to be here,
I write it to share,
That is in November.
Have you see how its magic,
In the world has mantic,
But remember all months are fantastic,
That is in November.
Herald the star that blooms, the trumpet and the scroll.
O God the bluest eye, it magnifies my soul.
Encompass calvary, the greatest light that shines.
Beautiful Bethlehem, the azure Winter pines.
Infant swaddled in love, the lamb in his stable.
The Great Shepherd asleep, star’s clearest timetable.
The rhythm of the sky, adoration of blue.*
Wrapped in azure blanket, star hangs over the Jew.
Circumnavigating, ornaments of the earth.
O see the living tree, little hands scarred at birth.
Predilection to save, open your newborn eyes.
The cross present in star, the blue heavens arise.
At birth…his death waiting, The Light opens her womb.
Before he turns 40, he walks out of the tomb.
A blizzard of azure, two men frozen in fear.
They’d get a taste of death, fearsome angels they’d hear.
Forst time geting my own bicycle,
I was not with my uncle,
Riding my bicycle I was enable,
When holding I was not stable.
My aunt give me a timetable,
When we were at the table,
It was like her new responsible,
I feel myself in good confortable.
Few days When she was responsible,
Silance left me at the middle,
I went myself with my bicycle,
Without knowing she was not visible.
Only turning back at the angle,
See that She was not available,
Failing down and not be stable,
Riding at home I was disable.
After many days I become capable,
Riding It was my best perishable,
I could like to be famable,
At home I was very distable.
Monitoring prayer requests
heart of mine anticipates answers
knowing that God constantly responds
believing He knows the best, perfectly indeed
by His love and grace, according to timetable sovereign
in His ways verily miraculous, mighty, merciful, mysterious…
Today’s prayer list offers no exemption to my spirit’s zest and zeal
since I wrote “special child’s responsive therapy toward functionality”
trusting the Lord Who always specializes in impossibilities via faith
beholding His hands working well, vanquishing doubts…
Yet, I am all the more amazed and truly surprised
and yes, puzzled to see the name of my son
not under the “Sick Brethren” section
but along “Thanksgiving” column...
The encoder made a mistake
I thought, but in the Saviour
it’s not an accident; thus
seeing it as blessing
I say, “Amen”
Grateful*!
*1Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
June 26, 2021
1st place, "A Brian Strand July 4 Brian Strand" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 7/5/2021.
Death
Death you’re coming so nothing really matters
I’ll forgive my trespassers as and when.
Though it’s hard, and difficult, I will do this.
Because you have no timetable, I’m aware.
No point in not speaking or grudges to bear.
Even though people never fail to bewilder.
I’ll try and live the next day as if my last, but of course,
It depends totally on circumstances and my
Bad temper, and others lack of consideration.
Though they never seem to obey the rules
Of friendship and love, it’s all one-way traffic.
Well, let’s be honest, it’s their problem really
Not mine. To betray is the highest crime, but
It happens, day after day and is never ending.
Their fears drip on them and saturate, nothing
I can do about that. Promise me, well if you can
Make it quick, sudden, because, I’m not the bravest man.
David cox 01/04/21
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