I run in circles all day long
doing a heap of chores and
getting things done
but I'll tell you what I truly find exhausting.
It's the waiting and not knowing,
it sets me back and slows me down.
It frustrates me to the bitter end.
Instead of multitasking
I end up multimasking
juggling and pretending
to be the patient person
that I'm really not.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
No glamour here in the South Bay
where function and industry reign
just an occasional seagull is seen
gliding over the steel grid power lines.
The daily westerly winds whistle
swaying a small fleet of sailboats
buoys bob along a mariner’s course
as he navigates the currents.
Ships of all shapes and sizes
quietly line the edges of the bay
docked or moored in place
patiently waiting their turn at sea.
An unearthly silence lingers
around the salt flats that arise
staking their claim at the south shore
a monument to the “bitter end”.
It is peaceful here…without pretense
where the hum of traffic is heard
endlessly moving along an offramp
while the random seagull flies above.
Early on a cold March morning
a handful of men took a stand
in the year of eighteen thirty six
when a sabre drew a line in the sand
it was victory or death for the valiant few
outnumbered and out-gunned
surrender and be spared an ultimatum they knew
with a cannon shot by Travis it was shunned
even as the day was dawning
the handful of men held their ground
thirteen days in San Antonio
such a fearful sight a dreadful sound
Santa Ana gave the order,
'Fly the red banner, show no quarter,'
a bloody battle to the bitter end
while the Mexican band played 'El Degüello'
now the guns are silent the smoke has cleared
to this day Texians all say, "Remember the Alamo."
no gain without pain
you gotta push on, right through
to the bitter end
it's just in sight, bend, bend, bend ~
moan, groan, scream ~ Oh my Hammie !
I'm grateful often not once a year
I'm grateful to be able to see and hear
I'm grateful to hold my love one's near
I'm grateful to have memories i hold dear
I'm grateful to my God who gave his only son
I'm grateful to have my sins forgiven along with everyone
I'm grateful to have someone to call my best friend
I'm grateful i can endure trials to the bitter end
I'm grateful i had a single parent who was very strong
I'm grateful to her for teaching me right from wrong
I'm grateful to have an open heart and love to give
I'm grateful that I'm still living because life is short lived.
Jealousy never ages well...
like a 70-year-old bow legged harlot.
Every year the mascara painted thicker
the strut less arrogant
with every sticky minute
no more virgin revelations
coming off clownish lips or pen...
A discarded dried-up turd...
to the bitter end.
Anger, the only remaining vice
of a burned-out free-falling life
So, sip your cold black coffee
From a cracked test tube
labeled "failed experiment".
You've lifted a new mantra of American education
by staking your future on the fate of war & peace,
making university presidents tremble and
pro-Israel legislators cringe in anger -- you've intruded in their
scheme to assist a genocide, unaware of any rights
for the vanquished yet resilient Palestinians; they strongly disapprove
of your just struggle and watch your mass arrests with pleasure,
manifesting their own descent to dictatorship.
But, their folly consists of a naive misinterpretation of your will power
to fight for Palestinian justice to the bitter end, and to pay whatever the price
no price is too high for human rights.
Star Struck
Star struck
Fire at will
Suicide is shooting
Looks that could kill
But brings me to life
Star struck
A fire inside
A week of eternity
A death that died
I am so alive
Star struck
I'll never forget
Here to the bitter end
It's the safest bet
Never been a gambling man
Star struck
Had everything I want
Still too struck
To make it up
To write my affront
Still too much to feel
How can't this be real
Can't seem to conceal
A wound that cannot heal
Without you...
Women are the Misery of Men
by M. Griswold
07062023
Women are the misery of men to the bitter end.
We then spend our entire life try'n to get back in.
We are born from a of which we came.
Then labor all our lives to return to it, once again.
How dumb a man to waste all that time and space.
How silly he is, to give space to the all that waste.
And yet, he turns to the hormonal twist and swerves,
To play around with his emotion's passions curves.
All for a women, how stupid he is for all of his lust.
How ignorant is the misery of this, a biology must.
For one with out the other leaves a man in the dust.
But the company of a woman is life's miseries disgust.
*Image of White Lies by PToday.
Kill With Truth Or Live a Lie
Innocence precedes with their mouth,
Bold-step, no Fred Astaire,
Unashamed, not from the deep south,
Turn a smile amid glare.
Embellished claims, "Friends to the bitter end,"
Advent sketched destiny...a reflection,
Candid critiques retards the heart--transcend.
'Twas best to conspire words of perfection,
Now rivals are close, turns I to pretend,
A picture's worth a thousand subjection.
Age turns to face, choices regret,
Quick death or suffering,
Was it stanza two? I forget.
Third stanza? I'm laughing.
2023 January 04
*HMS.
The agon of a love thrown out, debased,
Doth wound as deep as deeply ever could
It cuts across the veins in my pump based
And turns my heartfelt words to dull, dry wood.
It is a blinding shadow hid in wit
That thinks, by wit that it cannot be seen,
A diamond rose, and silver leaf – on it,
A gold acorn; these three are yet too mean
To offer to the lady of my heart,
Or yet, to win her favor for my helm,
Or yet, to seal my hope against her dart,
Enough! For her, the finest in the realm!
Doth not suffice, nor will, my noble friend.
But you shall love her to the bitter end.
WHAT ABOUT WOLFS
shel silverstein: a bit childish, his giving tree my kids remember, though its parts were dismembered as it gave to the bitter end of life.
ogden nash: well, he gives us moo and milk, until the utter end, short and brief. reminds us of the soup’s - wolf.
wendy cope: born in kent in the london broil (ahem…borough) of bexley. things are going clunk and your face has too much gunk, a hoarder with thirty years of junk and especially she doth remind us don’t answer email when you're drunk.
william james collins: a hoot, billy! only child, born in manhattan, dear old dad worked on wall street. a poet laureate’s big recital on two poems about what dogs think (probably) - what about wolfs?
gershon wolf: he’s flower power-ful in his jest. for example - hippies pulled the triggers and out came flowers. though other comedic poets might create a chuckle, gershon always makes us smile.
7/21/2022
With the Darkness from within your own heart's a wry,
You're going to die without anyone to love you and no one to cry.
Just alone by yourself on the bed of your death,
With the stench of regret emanating from your last dying breath,
For you have chosen the path of a bitterly selfish man,
With the blood of your wife and children on your hands.
For the penance you'll pay for the way you've behaved,
Will be written in plain as the name of your grave.
In the fiery pits of hell will your soul perish in agony and horror,
For the consequences of murder is harsh punishments with fervor.
No amount of pleading will cease your unending suffering,
For the aftermath of those deaths is misery and agony unrelenting and neverending.
For the shadows of ghosts of the happenings that will be,
Or maybe those happenings are by made by you for you only.
For you can't buy your way to repent on the deaths you've erased,
The ever-so-clear punishment of infinite torment in death will serve those souls well repaid.
Some broken hearts will never mend
for souls are swept by varied storms-
loss of sweet love and lives that end-
heartache comes in different forms.
Along my way today I found
some broken hearts will never mend;
everywhere fractured lives abound
with grief we cannot comprehend.
They struggle to the bitter end
wearing their happy disguises;
some broken hearts will never mend
and they come in many sizes.
It could be you, it could be me,
the soul whose heartache does not end
so let kindness your watchword be;
some broken hearts will never mend.
Copyright February 25, 2022
*Image of People of the Dawn by Pixabay.
Instruments of Mercy
Amidst the wailing whiplashed 'neath a moonlit plight,
Against the cowered beast of demons gnashing white,
Angst men in their temporary shanties walled bubbles,
Atheist fated them to wile their skill with steel shovels,
Apologist to the bitter end proves it's never supported,
Absolutist self-denial raw display ne'er to be thwarted,
Awarest who'd weathered the conviction of strong will,
Awkwardest fretted near sunk rocks, lost eyes wet still,
Aptest met their latest neighbor, old-timers now closer,
Antichrist organized bits of their faith sitting as a poser.
2022 January 22
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