precious …
days consumed …
before they even take a breath
or wink to waking …
oh the wealth of life so squandered for
white-hot agony behind the eye -
hours stretched to inestimable eternity in
nauseated darkness
unavoidably focused on all that’s not
being accomplished -
all thats left withering in the sun
and all those who resent this beast that
robs you both of precious time
(or you, undeservedly) …
do I not wholly believe in empirical purpose?
do I not relinquish all to its tenets??
yes - in everything, I do …
and yet …
the intendment in THIS neurological monstrosity -
this searing saboteur and
all its chronic collateral casualty
is something I shall never …
ever …
comprehend.
HUMANITY
Action and reaction, equal and opposite
We hear, but just what do we make of it
Do we let loose and curse or merely spit
When arrows rain, how shall we respond
It does take pressure to make a diamond
And unavoidably, we will all get physical
One can argue that it’s all about balance
With nods and smiles as merely a valance
As even we might then utilise our talents
To react with equal force, maybe in kind
With daggers of steel, or just of the mind
When angry, it’s no time to be whimsical
Humanity and animal instincts kept apart
And was meant to be from the very start
Yet both have physics at their very heart
The very first instinct is always to survive
And perhaps with luck and skill, to thrive
Yet the desire for good over evil is critical
*** MUSINGS ***
I have grown old,
thankfully,
dragging along all my ailments,
unavoidably, it seems, but endured ~ and
graced by the frequent
florets of wisdom
adorning the rounds of circumspect musings
— those streams of sub-conscious pondering —
which then course (perhaps too much)
into my rambling soeech —
and occasionally my babbling on about dreams —
throughout whose passages, I have found
I believe
in dimensions upon dimensions of reality
wherein our thick, surrounding present
come
the symbols; geatures; motions; keys; spirits
and intuited messages —
meant to expand
any narrow notice of this life.
————————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 6/18/2023
Thanks be to God
Lately i've been thinking
Am i blue or am i pink
Am i living out this life in real time
Or merely following the highlights
Can i or could have indeed done
anything different
Made better choices gone right
instead of left
Or is it and was it all predestined
And i just a passenger or guide
Here is where i am
Where i was simply unavoidably
meant to be
Until my clock expires and so do i
Not a second more or less to buy
Where i stand is where i die
Lately i've been thinking
I think to much
Wishing what limited time
i have away
Complaining rather than
being grateful and relishing
All the thing's i am bound to miss
Thing's i wish i should and could
have done
But put off in favour of doing
nothing of consequence
Worthy of a single memory or
anecdote to last me or keep
me company for eternity
If someone was in death to ask
I thought when I was little adults did not cry.
“They are strong and brave and unafraid.”
Such I believed ’til my ninth birthday was nigh.
I awoke one morning with a pain in my chest.
“Best take you to the doctor,” Mother said.
Until she did, I knew she would not rest
The doctor poked and prodded, head to toe.
Then he turned to Mother, his voice somber
“Something’s askew, you need to know.”
Mom’s voice trembled as she said “tell me.”
“It’s his heart. Surgery may be needed.”
There were tears in her eyes, hurtful to see.
“If it’s what I think it is, it’s a real concern.”
Mother’s face was ashen, wholly overtaken.
“Tests are needed, my findings to confirm.”
“Be in my office next Thursday at four,
in the meantime, give him plenty of rest.”
'Twas a week away for Mother to worry more.
Each night she came to me eyes all red
and with tears flowing, feared I’d die.
It was then that I knew there in my bed.
that adults do unavoidably, inevitably cry.
THE COFFER
through the threshold
carried by the wind
a summer skirt below my knees
a request to enter with a sales brochure
an invitation to pitch perfume and jewelry
unbeknownst she’s decorated
her parlor space daring a drop-dead stare
the heaviness of dust, that hides my eyes
from any other prize my sale unavoidably detained
the coffer falls out of time and space
not unlike H.G. Wells time machine
the end of the world might have come
when one sees stars angularity
and the sun splashing in one’s eyes
forthwith, the ejection of a breath-holders breath
a sinking emotion of a pilot’s imminent death
but this darling of the skies survived
to let in this down-to-earth Avon rep
2/28/2019
*Coffer used more as an expression of a treasure
found in my eyes as I spy this pilot’s ejection seat
No acknowledgement could be
commensurate nar e'er
equivalent to countless years (scores of orbitz
of unexplored wonder) – left...
(with millstones around neck)
to atrophy on severe truncated
limb mitts, now cause
for silent lachrymose as this
brother doth brook a wake
his pained self actualization
(particularly predicated on
decade number six
unavoidably approaching) uptake
analogous to 2001 A Space Odyssey,
when closing scene
of the film - image of embryonic
"Starchild" left a slake
king unshakable reverberation
Also Sprach Zarathustra
echoing in me noggin since
opening soundtrack did quake
of a much younger self, when seeing
the movie did overtake
puzzlement until I read the book
"aha" awareness did make
that minor mystery resolved, and
now childhood's end keepsake
recalled as the time thy vulnerable
psychological state did intake
pelting asteroid storm cratering a boy
who shied away, to forsake
growing up, and now haunted (akin
to ghost of Marley) not "FAKE"
shackled to an un freed spirit, that
got squelched as if a sudden brake
got jammed propelling this then puny
body electric...now doth ache.
Once again, here comes my crush
just his mere sight on me without a doubt I blush
a popular neighbourhood-magnet from his looks so lush
a globe-tour on foot with him is better than riding a Porsche
I dream of him, please be more than a crush.
Come to me, my natural enchanting crush
fitted clothing, flowery aroma, good ascent, gosh!
unto his always-awaiting presence I childishly rush
my scattered attention and sincere emotions he seem to brush
I’ve painstakingly known my rivals, their hopes I’ll crush
I lust after you, I’m so in love, my crush
the incredible wealth from better options, I quickly flush
cos of his royal majesty, my expensive worth, I wash
the reminders keep coming, but family and friends I hush
they’re right but I can’t help the feeling of him being my crush.
Life, I think, is a bit of a paradox.
Floating through this desolate void devoid of context and explanation, (some might suggest value as well, I suppose);
I conclude these idiosyncratic murmurings of bothersome almost-people
Reprimanding my almost-conscience are just a whit of an empty, emaciated white whale of a civilization proclaiming pseudo-camaraderie and disappointing undertakings as suitable solutions for contentedly concluding one’s existence.
Though some perceive fraudulence efficiently, soaring quilled shafts of deceit unavoidably puncture intimate electing properties of our conscious.
No barricade can shield humanity from himself.
With living comes a constant quality of inconsistency,
despite the state of existence itself being incredibly monophonic,
permeating my formless breath and solid heart like no other experience.
Well… there is another event I imagine could deliver a pure, unadulterated sensation of intoxicating eternity.
I will wait for him, peacefully, until he arrives on his sweet, milky steed.
O dear old friend, deliver me swiftly unto my end, the true undying void.
the right notes,
rhythmically in place,
entice the held and unrefined
to become free...
matching the speed of attention
like a turned head facing the horizon,
pondering in solitude the multitudes,
feeling strong twisting waves
like love.
we have no control.
and the speed of that realm cannot compare,
the timing is beyond perfect,
unavoidably implicit,
becoming that horizion...
the wind...
and smiles...
and eyes...
how can we hold onto this?
Every day, words of you fill me up and write themselves inside.
They won't stop, every day, like the stars and the Moon and the Sun.
Familiar, but always beautiful, and always different.
I could never stop.
If my mind and thoughts are jewels, then you are the light that
Enters and scatters my colours, immortal.
I could never stop.
From the start, I always knew
I'd always find inspiration in you.
You are unavoidably lyrical.
Forever on my mind.
I will never stop.
Embarrassment at the Big Box Store
By Elton Camp
Sue was checking out at the crowded store
Then occurred something that she did abhor
Although the checker tried to do it twice,
A bar code just wouldn’t scan—no dice
So, loudly over the store’s public address
The equipment malfunction he did confess
“On super size Tampax I need a price check.”
It was misheard as “thumbtacks,” then heck
Over the public address system came the call
That was unavoidably heard by one and all
And so loudly the question then did come
“Is that the type you push in with your thumb?”
“Or is the missing price you need me to trace
Ones that with a hammer you drive into place?”
Red-faced Sue made a mad dash for the door
And resolved never to shop there anymore
No Hypocrisy, No Cant
The lioness is wont
to practice no
hypocrisy, no cant.
The lioness
will topple her objective,
grapple with it till
all palpitation
finally is still.
The lioness then laps,
completely dry,
what unavoidably
may spill.
Donal Mahoney
Cruel is the mere intent to say
You care, then walk away
From problems, sorrows, fights,
Personal issues, grief and frights.
Nothing is easy in two.
When you look at your other,
Eagerly waiting what next to discover,
You take it all as being new and sweet,
Regardless of wrongs you unavoidably meet.
Some things are easier in two.
If neglect and good-bye-s come your way,
Both wishing for a happier next-couple-day,
Then comes the illusion that time settles all in an hour,
But we make the changes, time has no power.
Things are solved easier in two.
Young, vigorous and full of life
These are my adolescent years
Neither worry nor a care
No visions of the upcoming fears
Charismatic, virtuous and free
Beautiful as a fully blossomed rose
These are my teenage years
No responsibility; just a stunning present pose
A young mother, a young wife
Built around much chaos and constant despair
These are my early twenties
No fear of growing older, though the time is coming near
Career oriented and focused; my beauty still remains
The captivation which once drew a crowd
That captivation is slowly fading in vain
My early thirties have come upon me
My insecurities running amok
Sadly all I felt I had was beauty
And certainly I’ve been struck
Beauty, fame and fortune
Something in which all of us wish to gain
But not at the cost of our loved ones
And not at the cost of someone else’s pain
I have taken a new outlook on life
As the years unavoidably pass me by
My first priority is family and friends
And learning to laugh until we cry
So in the end, what matters the most?
Is it fame, fortune and personal gain?
Or is it the moments we share with our friends
And the family that still remains?
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