WHY
Why dose the sun rise at daybrake why dose the moon rise every night
Why must living seem such a endless fight
Why are we sometimes happy, why are we sometimes sad
Why when something is wrong do we get so mad
Why do we use religion as a tool to start a war?
Why are we killing each other? What are we fighting for
Why is hating so easy and why is loving so impossible to do
Why do people make excuses for the bad that they do
Why don’t people talk anymore? Why are we so afraid?
Why don’t we ever apologise for the mistakes we have made
Why don’t you all meet together and talk face to face
Why do you have to fight and kill off the human race
Why can’t you understand it? It doesn’t make any sense.
Why can’t you knock down the wall and remove the barbwire fence
Why don’t you listen and take your head out of the sand
Why don’t you make a stand, just reach out to someone and shake them by the hand
We learnt not to cry
keep hearts guarded under sleeves
eyes learn not to spill
for solace comes at a cost
when feelings are best unsaid.
Body knows the truth
eyes brim before we know why
throat clenches; words choke
we blink hard and turn away
buying time to face ourselves.
Tears can blur the truth
joy and grief can look alike
eyes speak without words
strangers may misread their cause
even we may not know why.
Tears swell against walls
the guarded well spills over
there's no calling back
buried cracks burst wide open
bringing the whole dam wall down.
The years taught restraint
stand firm and hold back the flood
with courage and will
hiding where the cracks may lie
release is revelation.
loving the process
you'll no longer be waiting
for your happiness
I somehow keep forgetting
To adjust things for my age,
For things I once did easily
Don’t, at this current stage,
Let me bounce back quite as fast
So that I still feel the effects
Way beyond the time I did them,
Longer than what one expects.
Walking several extra miles,
Which, when walking, felt okay,
Has me totally exhausted,
Though it was the other day.
Sleeping less than what my body
Would prefer has its results,
Something that would never happen
To most younger-type adults.
Eating what I am not used to,
‘Specially if the food is rich,
Or an extra drink at dinner,
Might produce a little glitch.
Many older people fight this,
Since it’s easy to deny
That they need to take things slower;
Now I’m understanding why.
assuming our heart is satiated
we shed our mask and don a cloak of light
commingled with bliss beats unabated
that thus beyond space-time drenched in delight
we look at the world afresh with clear sight
but although now diminished is our fear
we nurture desire so we are still here
A hydro engine, Myer made'
It put car makers in the shade.
He was soon to die
Cause filed, vauge suspected.'
Just a ( stroke of bad luck.?)
Or murder directed.?
Dark, my depleted garden
no furtive rays of sunshine
August weather, clammy as a snail
sauce redolent of aged shrimp cocktail
Peonies once lined up to burst forth
‘til their came a howler from the north
A sepulchral portrait, pleasing skunks and raccoons
~ They don't cry to Heaven if a garden is ruined
Don't ask me why
I am a child of God
Don't ask me why
I am a middle class person
Don't ask me why
I made friends with poor people
I don't like the rich people at
ALL
Because they despise the poor ,
Sure, one could try once, twice,
A thousand times to make sense
Out of fuzzy math, but that is akin to
Sticking out one's tongue to taste
The food one cannot eat; might as well
Put down the pen and close the book.
Why the Irish Sing and Dance
by Frank Daub
Which the merrier – a speech or song?
One moves men to freedom
the other dances the soul along.
If they could, the Irish would
Transport their freedom to all the world.
From Parnell’s fire and flame
To Pearce’s sacramental offerings seldom heard.
Yet it is their music, the dreamer’s lively feet at dance,
That makes them known best.
Its poems set to music that brings the good unrest.
Then why their gift of blarney?
Why their speeches set to life?
They’ve made their songs their army,
to combat tears and strife.
The Irish are not selfish, and radiate from sea to sea,
The message that their music makes?
Every freedom fighter
Free.
For if we are to dream,
then flatteries of hope are cheap,
and withered as the gloom of despair.
Yet despair can be beautiful and calm,
a quiet place where nothing is promised,
where dreams cannot break
because they have already faded.
Hope asks us to believe,
to reach for what may never come.
Despair asks nothing.
And still,
somewhere beneath the silence,
we dream.
Perhaps that is why we bother,
because even knowing hope may wither,
we cannot help but reach for it.
An erotic stanza
with a sensual bonanza...
stronger than liquor
when the last line's a kicker...
hotter than vice
while brief and concise...
coming from all nations,
each with their variations
of ribald situations...
they're even kinda "juicy" -
with more info than a blue movie!
Do we all suffer from the same fate
Be we individuals, nations, or life’s mates
Why can’t we hit ‘pause,’ why can’t we stop
Are the laws of physics so completely true
That we can’t bring us to say ‘I love you’
why do I let the world make me feel so blue?
history has a way of repeating, that should never of been changed in the first place
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