I'm just living a life of an one-eyed AuDHD dude,
Always repeating the cycle every single day
As folks think I'm acting like a robot,
And always having an undisciplined heart.
They say it's not always seen from the outside,
With history and video games is all I think of
Yet they see me as a young Sheldon,
Thinking being smart is a big blessing.
But I still look like a nerd
As if they see me as a nobody,
I'm still a spud in my eyes
As I'm too different for anything.
A butterfly flitted into view
Then quickly bidded me: Adieu
But its’ image there lingers still
Its’ gyrations of freewill
For I had been a butterfly
And yes my Life did typify
Carefree flitting (my chosen fate)
For the next “flower” I couldn’t wait
I paid no heed unto the wind
Going forward, undisciplined
Always flowers – always time
Looking for my next “stem” to climb
But I see sunset drawing near
When time and flowers will disappear
But no regrets for The Butterfly
The one I saw, and the one that’s: I
Spare the rod
You’ll come to hate the child
King Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes
Isn’t that wild
Commentators cite Abraham the Patriarch
who constantly pampered Ishmael
Abraham watched his undisciplined son go off the rails
Not to mention Isaac, who loved Esau, let him do what he wanted
which led Esau to rape women, whom ‘for sport’ he hunted
So, Solomon really meant what he said
Abraham came to hate Ishmael; Isaac, Esau to dread
Yet if you still consider King Solomon an irrelevant old head
Know that his advice came with one proviso
A father must never – ever – strike a child when he is riled!
They say life is full of twists and turns,
But the bid for love comes uneasy.
As the fire of my heart eternally burns,
For the reminder of kindness goes unbusy.
But my heart fights like a rebel,
And standing alone, numb and broken.
Wondering of being saved by an angel.
Or the hole in my heart stays ever it has been,
With my hands shaken, as grief is only I can feel.
First, they sent the dogs
And it became a dog’s toilet,
So, we moved to more remote areas.
Then they burnt the restaurant
So, we carried our own water and fruit
To the fringes of the liveable sands.
So as not to dry out like desert dates
We became slimmer and saved money.
Then they closed the parking lot
So, we walked miles on foot
We got fitter and saw more of nature.
What we saw became more beautiful
With each countering passage
For those of us who persevered.
Now there is hardly a soul left,
But those who are, are strong and fit.
Dune flowers are blooming again
Without the constant threat of trampling feet
And everywhere you can hear the rhythm of the sea,
White waves breaking and reforming refrains
Without the cries and shrieks of spoiled children
Or the barking of undisciplined domestic beasts.
We felt how beautiful everything is
Sub-human, man absent from God’s creation.
And even his attempts of countering and ruin
Were turned into creative and regenerative forces
Within us now greater love’s awareness courses.
The phone lies still. The chamber dims its sight.
The walls grow wise with silence long denied.
I sit as one confessed unto the night,
while shadows watch me, curious yet kind.
My thoughts convene, unruly, undisciplined,
half-spoken truths that tremble as they rise.
Old griefs return, in borrowed skins reclined,
and hope arrives too softly to be wise.
I was born late into a weary age,
reared on alarms, on haste, on borrowed breath,
taught how to strive, how neatly play my stage,
not how to meet myself, uncloaked by depth.
O patient dark, thou askest no decree,
no polished truth, no courage neatly won.
Thou stayest while I falter honestly,
and name the selves I thought I had outrun.
So here I stand, no prophecy complete,
no certain end, no lesson neatly spun.
I breathe. I ache. I do not yet retreat.
I’m simply who I am, at twenty-three, alone.
In the face of irresistible attraction, I lose myself in my rebellious nature,
I cannot restrain what I feel, nor change the choices I've made,
I act contrary to expectations, like an undisciplined artist,
For I lack the power to hold back when you are near me.
Your presence is a storm that consumes me, an endless whirlwind,
It overwhelms me, pulls me from reality, and carries me into a dream,
For a moment that feels like eternity, a time suspended in time,
I feel helpless, captive in a universe where only you exist.
I am lost, without clear thoughts, unable to distinguish or believe,
In anything but you, in the light that gently blinds me,
Everything I've learned, everything I've built as the foundation of my being,
Has scattered, with no rules or religions to make me think otherwise.
I am at your mercy, whether you intended it to be so or not,
It's the way I feel, it's the way I am when you are near me,
Like a leaf carried by the wind, like a song without end,
I surrender to you, uncontrollable attraction and boundless desire.
Nothing But the Cross
Nowhere can I turn for help but to you
Oh Lord. You are
The great physician who can
Heal my broken heart.
In You and You alone am I safe and
Nothing can harm my soul. You
Gave all through your son Jesus so my sins can be
Buried at the foot of the cross. I can be
Undisciplined in my life like a sheep
That has gone astray. But I know
That I can turn back to the cross for
Help and You will always be there for
Even someone like me. Through
Communion we are commanded to
Remember the new covenant that
Offered us true
Salvation. Thank You Blessed
Savior.
Nothing But the Cross
Nowhere can I turn for help but to you
Oh Lord. You are
The great physician who can
Heal my broken heart.
In You and You alone am I safe and
Nothing can harm my soul. You
Gave all through your son Jesus so my sins can be
Buried at the foot of the cross. I can be
Undisciplined in my life like a sheep
That has gone astray. But I know
That I can turn back to the cross for
Help and You will always be there for
Even someone like me. Through
Communion we are commanded to
Remember the new covenant that
Offered us true
Salvation. Thank You Blessed
Savior.
Just leave them alone. They will be fine.
If I had a dollar for every time I heard that one
I would have enough money to buy a new coat.
I could buy one anyway, but I love my coat.
It is a fake fur, all black, I have had it eighteen years.
It looks brand new, so the $120 was worth it.
Thank you JC Penney’s.
Just let them be; life will happen, there is nothing you can do about it.
What is wrong with these creepsters?
Do they not know that I want to control my children and my pets.
I realize now that it was a futile idyllic thought, but makes no sense.
Controlling children is doable in a bit of a regard but only for a few years.
For they were born with minds of their own.
My pets are as wild and undisciplined as my children.
I love them all the same.
But my pets seem to love me more.
Thank you, God, for dogs.
They didn't have an upbringing
it was more of a downbringing instead.
It happens when a parent acts more like a friend.
Milk and cookies replaced by Nickle bags and fifths of mayhem.
Fun always trumps discipline.
The survivors of a downbringing suffer from post-traumatic Lost syndrome.
Have trouble honoring boundaries, obeying authority.
Can't take direction, hold a job, and are undisciplined.
Have attitude problems, with some ending up in the pen.
The wild children of the dusk. Have become feral adults.
Now they treat their children like just another friend.
Mama, Sissy, Hun, Chris, Baby, Beloved, Crystol Lynn
Compassionate, empathetic, self-conscious, undisciplined
Brother or sister of: One sister, three brothers, and all fellow Christians
Lover of : My family, Reading, studying the Bible
Who feels: With my hands, with my whole heart, and with my soul
Who fears: The unknown, humiliation, my child being hurt
Who wishes to see: My grandchildren one day, my name on a published book I've written, more love than hate in this world
Resident of: Dille,WV
Last name: Hundley-Woods
Blood of my blood and bone of my bone
Who, formed in my womb, has become my home.
Scarlet threads from far back in time
Connected by, and desirous are, these ties that bind.
An undisciplined terrible tot,
Ana did awful things quite a lot.
Uncle Bob she did kick.
I told Dad. With a stick,
a good spanking my sis at last got!
The assigned unseen lamp hidden somewhere,
someone kindles for you when you’re made to arrive.
Unperceived, it creates reflective beam of contemplation,
illumines the pathway of your destined journey.
The free will you make as the mental mural of pride,
the lamp makes it ostensibly self-radiant,
enmeshing your soul within the maze of formidable ego,
that designs the deviant road you travel undisciplined.
On the way you pick up some flowers of wilderness,
someone graciously blossoms only for you,
but you think these are epitome of your self-made image,
worthy of affirmative celebration of self-seeking euphoria.
On the way you tread on the trail of anguish thorns,
you think you would pave a new amiable track soon,
and won’t suffer on the stinging journey for long,
but the perpetual torment lingers on.
The disowned lamp then gets extinguished by itself,
in depth of darkness you lose awareness unrestrained.
The willful psyche clings to the sense of disarrayed self,
and gets confined within the bubble of delusion.
Oh April
I hear you tapping
Tapping on sweet Spring’s back door
Running through the streets after dark
Undisciplined, unchaperoned
Chattering in a fledgling nest
Peeking from behind softened soil
Basking in a sunrise drum roll
I hear nature whisper
OH! APRIL
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