restraints are useless when we cannot control what is out of our hands
Zoran Mamdani and Katie Wilson
I’d deport them if only I could
Get rid of the useless idiots for good
To Cuba, Venezuela or North Korea
places in which they’ll absorb the idea
that socialism is a fool’s paradise
where thrive dictators, penury and mice
I am a Panglossian, mostly because
It helps to avoid useless arguments
My clouds have silver linings of course
More so when I watch the sunsets
Devoid of resistance and free of obedience
I live in the world of my own
While the chosen ones argue, parading expedience
The acts they perform are well-known
I live on the night side, spread no complaints
My curtains are drawn, there I play
Games where at least I can win, if I gain
A good hand, my rivals to slay.
Saddened n' tired,
Feeling like a doormat,
For people to just wipe their feet upon,
After being trampled on n' used...
Worth more...
Valued less...
Pain just fills me,
Once again, I guess...
Taken for granted...
Not seen for what I'm worth,
Just too blind to see...
How much it truly hurts....
Wings upon which emotions fly;
My words shaped into wells of water.
Shells of beaches from my past
Memories held, then laid to bed,
As trees felled or stones cast.
Words, raindrops, snowflakes, air:
Stirred and kneaded here or there.
Words unheard, like air unbreathed,
Unbleached and bare; Unheard with care.
Just words...
What could be more useless now.
With my thoughts I fight
To make a decent poem
Ideas just won’t take flight
Plain thoughts home grown
Maybe if I have a snack
Some peaches water then
My muse will come back
And be my best friend
An utterly Useless Tale
On a big round oak table in a living room, a vase, in its small crack, lived two house ants. They were sitting outside, considering a box of matches on the tabletop.
“if the box was empty, I’m sure I could push an inch or two the first and said. “Yeah,” the other snorted.
A man came into the room, took a matchstick out of the box, and put it back on the table, this time by its edge, and walked out.
The first ant giggled and said, “If we both push the box, it will fall on
the floor, no one will know how it ended there.”
They traversed the vast expanse of the table, pushed the box off the table, hurried back into their crack, and laughed heartily.
They had been frightened
people usually kill house ants at first
sight. The man came back, saw the box on the floor, shook his head, picked it up, and placed it back on the table. Our ants were in stitches
They were tempted to push the box on the floor again
but gave it up, the risk someone could come in with a duster
was too great
Back at their crack, they went to sleep
There’s tar on the floor,
Two, or three, or five, or more,
Don’t know why I’m counting, there’s nothing in store.
Sticky and dark, there’s nothing to read
You don’t rid of it, it will only breed.
Strong, loud, conscious
Living, living, living.
Useless bodies
They roll around aimlessly
Ram into anything they can destroy
Their own pleasure.
Their own entertainment
It's all about them,
Let them live.
gun
no bullets
a throne
no king
a teacher
no pupils
an army
no organization
a war
no weapons
all like talking some sense into...
a fool.
How can I tell you, Lord,
That you seem far away
And every time I start to pray
You don’t seem to be there?
How can I tell you, Lord,
Sometimes I fear
You may be just a thought
That my imagination
Likes to feel is real
When it is not?
How can I tell you, Lord,
I don’t know how to pray,
When others seem so sure,
So certain and secure
In their relationship with you?
How can I tell you, Lord,
I feel so poor
When others grow so large
In their devotion year by year
While I stay small?
How can I tell you, Lord,
I feel so useless?
What have I done for you?
I hear of others’ deeds
And words and wonders
Yet here it seems
My days are passed
In little profit to your cause.
How can I tell you, Lord?
I’d like to go
Right back
Beginning once again
And start the path afresh.
“My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
Look at my eyes, what do you see
I can see hidden tears unshed
Tears of pain and miseries
That always wet your saddened bed
Look at my legs, what do you see
I can see tired and timid legs
Too afraid to move towards your dreams
Instead of moving towards it, they fled
Look at my tongue,what do you see
I can see a tied tongue
Hesitating to state it seeings and feelings
Tis good to be silent but sometimes wrong
Look at my hands, what do you see
I can see the power to change your destiny
For it is written on your palms
In letters only you can understand
You can change the tears to a joyful one
You can start moving your timid legs
You can be the owner of your tongue
Your hands are not meant to be folded
What hope if I alone must strive
commandments to obey?
Could all my self-constructed good
withstand the Judgement Day?
Supposing I could keep one day
completely free from sin.
Would that be good enough from God
eternal life to win?
If I protest my innocence
before the accusing Word,
would that persuade the Righteous Judge
to leave my case unheard?
Nothing that I articulate
can contradict God’s Word;
indelible His judgement stands,
with Him I must concur.
No works of my poor righteousness,
no deeds that I think good,
can overcome my total need
of Jesus’ precious blood.
Provision far beyond my dreams
impossible to fail –
my Saviour dying in my place;
His righteousness prevails!
“He was wounded for our transgressions.”
Isaiah 53:5
I want to be
A useless friend
Without a means
Towards an end
I'd love to be
That one you know
Who's presence heals
With naught to show
Transaction lite
No gifts or tools
Just present
There to break the rules
That life is full
And resource heavy
True friends don't need
Transaction levy
I'd love to be
The friend you choose
When life is sweet
Nothing to lose
Unrequired
Layabout
Just present
For a mate hangout
Agenda free
Just there to hold
Nothing is bought
Nothing is sold
I want to be
There on demand
To chat and laugh
Or hold a hand
There is no reason
No goal, no end
I simply want
To be that friend
I become lost in all of the words that you try to say,
all of the nothing that comes tumbling from your mouth.
Won't you just touch me, and let your body speak to me instead?
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