Derived after much consideration.
Example scenarios run through causation.
Consider all persons who will be affected!
Imagination running wild undirected.
Suddenly an answer dawns on me
I'm too tired to make a decision carefree
Opening a can of worms like cancer!
No way will I go there and become a belly dancer.
So, I'm stuck in a rut with you, my prancer!
You can't protect yourself
From the future that awaits,
It comes to you like an elf,
Ambivalent to your fate.
The future is not a magical
happenstance like a fairy tale,
Although it can be theatrical,
Too much for anyone frail.
Sometimes we are more fragile
Than we expected,
Sometimes we simply pack our satchel
And wander paths undirected.
Every day they call me,
The battered, the shattered
And the sat upon
The smothered, overly mothered
And the sat upon
The neglected, rejected
The undetected undirected
And the shat upon
The tattered, scattered ratted on.
Every day I hear them call out,
As they weep or shout or bawl out
Their tales of, “Wo! I’ve had enough!
Let the poisons do their stuff.”
Every day I take the call
Listening for something small
Some flotsam in the swollen river
That might allow me to deliver
A faint glimmer of some hope,
Turn the noose into a rope
To pull them to the shore.
But every day when the calls have ended
And the hands of help, extended,
Are inevitably pulled away,
I am mostly left uncertain
As to whether the final curtain
Has been stayed for another day.
Until at last, worn out,
My own heart torn out
And my own fears borne out
I call out my tale of, “Wo! I’ve heard enough”
© Barry Freeman - 10th May 2021
Your words hurt more then ice cold fists
I don't see how you could have missed
Your words of spite, I know not against me
You take it on on the ones you love
Like a boxer with a barbwire glove
The words you use hurt more then ever
I can't see why you want us together
Maybe one day you could see
I'm not good enough for you, and your words outmatch me
It hurts my heart and breaks my soul
If only someday you'd believe what I had told
I loved you the day I say your face
And I will till I am forgotten and old
Though the words you hit me with
I know I am a dolt
The words you throw in my face feels like a lightning bolt
Your words will do as much as they feel
I know the way you treat me
Is undirected, because I feel your empathy
When you throw the final punch
Aim for my heart, and try to forgive me
As in
The ice petals of an orchid
challenging an entire glacier
comprised of all that enchanted
the very same seed from which
it became.
As with
The golden grain of sand
searching for significance
so undirected and mystified
by the very beach from which
it derived.
As in
The loneliest child in time
running as fast as the light
will allow into the same grave
by which he was indelibly once
beforn.
As is
A weapon based affiliation is neither a cat cavern or a divided field. Marshals could be described as marshmallows as they are often rounded mush balls. Often a cape is found staring at a calender in a midday glaze. But guidance from sandstorms glow in minds. Entering like breadsticks. Forcibly correcting wrongs in specifies locations globally. Wisdom is not held in a button or a shoe lace. And lacrosse is an extremely busy explosive experiment when attempted by nine foot rabbits. How wonderful it is to sit by a plumage which is radiating. Undirected individual skylights of assorted colours and hue. Adjusting with the many lights. Across all regions but where to put a sparrow is the question for a branch. Perched placed pecking. And one must always admire the flowing of elephant steps. How quite quickly they assemble and move. Latter day layers then. No hahahaha actually for the fractions of house us segmented. Jalapeño halogen bulbs. Xxxx terminology xxxx tripods. *** gravitational gravitation xxxx
words
not quite seen
not quite heard
freely floating
drifting aimlessly
beyond a misty screen
directionless unmotivated
in collective solitude
until
an unprovoked spark
undirected unknowingly
seeks grasps
their trailing tendrils
orders and thrusts them
conjoined in breathless
wonder into something
more
My hand, with pen, it writes in script
Before my mind so guides
The words come out, they are so formed
They pour from deep inside
The subject matter, matters not
For it will all make sense
As half way through I’ll read aloud
To see just where I went
At that point then, I will decide
On where this write should go
But, until I reach completion then
My mind won’t even know
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