The day dawns arid and dry,
even the houseflies refuse to come out.
Whatever shall the old uncles do
to count the minutes until sunset?
It really doesn’t matter much,
it’s ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
She loves whatever I text her.
I could text,
"Got in a car wreck this morning"
and her first response would be,
"Loved 'Got in a car wreck this morning'"
Then she'd text, "OMG. You alright?"
followed by a few heart emojis.
Oh, those damned, emotionless heart emojis.
Why can't just end the text by saying, "I love you"?
Never knew this was real
it's kinda like something unspecail
there is no you and I
My awareness of being single
she smiles like a devil
glad to bruise my ego
happy to keep me lonly
an emotional destroment
but whats better than this
the discount makes it a gift
My status still single!
Whatever was begun without due heed
And all that was not properly conceived,
Although a promise and a pledge were given,
It is right to hesitate — to press on or draw back.
Christopher M. Swan 2008
They both loved to travel.
Thrived on sparks of spontaneity and adventure.
Life had much to offer.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
When the mind
Is being disturbed
By the issues of life
All night becomes long
You can't sleep
Many manipulating
Always Calculating
Contemplating on how to overcome
Steadily looking at time, waiting for dawn.
When things get plight
You hopefully living life
While the heart aches
From lost and betrayals
You start panicking
If you can't plug in
Whatever comes for free
Have a hidden fee
Either regret or insult
That's the result, when you lose the bond.
When life becomes bleak
Steady struggling
To survive
Until you revive
From the low
To thy peak
You become weak
When errors are noticed
But all efforts are been ignored.
He's a jungle boy
Smoking his pain pills
Steadily rolling his blunt
Jumbo size is his favorite
Doing whatever makes him happy his priority.
Always smoking
When he's not, maybe he's
Asleep, bathing, eating and more
He said smoking is his hobby
Because it keeps him reasoning not thinking.
Lost his parents at a very tender age
There was no guidance
Started living reckless and dangerous
Never jealous of anyone
Always zealous in all his endeavors
Many sees him as a savior
Because he always savor every moment.
I Feel Like I've Had
A Study Done On Me,
And, According To
Multiple Focus Groups:
"We're Sad To Say,
We Just Weren't
All That Impressed."
What Else Is New?
(Trite & Cliche!)
...Still Gray...
-Gray Squirrel
09-09-2025
Nationals you are the same
Whatever nation you relate to
You're caught up in the old game
Of some national breakthrough
The most independent sources
Tell you what you need to learn
Privileged with self-importance
You count every cent you earn
Tell me propaganda stories
Tired generalizations
Pose a show-off with no worries
Though you are a worried nation
That’s your special way to go
Just a little bit depressing
We are poles apart, I know
But it seems a mutual blessing.
It is the way of the people,
people like you, people like me.
It is the way of the people,
to want whatever they see.
It is the way of the people,
people like you, people like me.
It is the way of the people,
to take whatever they please.
It is the way of the people,
people like you, people like me.
It is the way of the people,
to keep whatever they seize.
How many, many people
called this sad land their own?
How many, many people
lost this land they called home?
People like you, people like me,
pushed again, lost again, wandering free.
It is the way of the people,
taking from those who came before.
It is the way of the people,
to want and want and forever want more.
People like you, people like me,
taking from you, taking from me.
Taking dreams, scattering bones
of people like you, people like me,
without life, without homes.
Torn asunder, left to wonder
by people like you, people like me.
The world spins out another
people like you, people like me,
to drive and push away
people like you, people like me.
Thus it has been, thus it is,
for people like you, people like me.
Must it always be?
My eyes wandered through an old photograph.
Pausing suddenly, I dissolved in tears,
remembering how, the first half of half
of my life, you were with me all those years,
and how my young love, bonny, bright, and fair,
stroked you with fingers, delicate and soft,
as well she styled you, "beautiful blonde hair",
and admired you, as wind bore you aloft.
So, bitterly, I asked, why did you leave?
Slowly, bit by bit, I was abandoned,
to sadly mourn and hopelessly to grieve.
Yet, I struggle hard to understand and,
thinking philosophically, I say,
drying my tears away, "'twas only DNA".
Your golden calf
speaks artfully in my ear
marketing its millions of worshipers-
whispers of temptation to be like you-
If all life produces are idolators
from the gold calves they adore,
where are its gardeners
its realtors
its nourishers
its doctors
its listeners
its philosophers
it cleaners
its mothers
its fathers?
These are the pillars of society.
Remember this
and don't feel ashamed of who you were meant to be.
We all have a part to play on this sea of glass
and rocky debris
Breakfast done, lunch so far away.
It's never too early or late for Elevenses!
Perhaps a seed-cake, sweet fragrant and so very proper.
Or a steaming currant bun, warm, light and spicy.
Oh perhaps the splendor of a freshly baked scone with jam and cream.
Or delicate petite fours scattered with remnants of a dream perchance?
Who stole the plate the strawberry tarts, red, tangy and sweet?
Or the short-bread creams rich in flour and butter, filled with icing?
All swerved with steaming tea, brewed in a pot, warmed in a knitted cosy!
It's ten past ten, how can we wait any longer?
For the clock to strike - Elevenses!
Whatever you've lost
Don't go in search for it
If you can't find it
It always leave you insane
Start looking for who to blame.
Transfer your pain into glory
Leave story, let bye gone be bye gone.
I'm so funny
But not cunning
Ha ha ha ha ha
The vibes I give
Always keep you laughing
If we believe, then we'll receive
Let go whatever that doesn't choose you.
Bright is the way
When it's your time
When's not your time
Sometimes very dark
If there's none to lean on.
What belongs to you
Will always be with, by and around you.
I could hand you the bottle,
tip it slow, let the cheap red river
burn down your throat—
but I can't make you feel it.
I could drop you in a dim-lit room,
where the fan wobbles and the radio wheezes
some dead man's blues—
but I can't make you hear it.
I could carve the hunger into your ribs,
make you watch the world walk by
with full pockets and easy hands—
but I can't make you taste it.
I could lay down the cards,
deal the losses, stack the nights
like empty beer cans—
but I can't make you know it.
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