Why do we keep trashing our beautiful world?
By doing so we risk making it completely barren.
Do we really want a world with no bees and trees
no life at all is what we risk for our lovely planet
For without trees we would have little oxygen
and no pollination of plants and our flowers
water would dry up and leave only dust
turning the world into a barren desert
Is this what we really want? No I say its not
but we seem not to listen to nature herself
for why I ask. Is profit so high and important
that we turn our backs on life essentials?
We see it already in soaring temperatures
crops dying in the fields wizen and burnt
when will our governments act and address
the problems caused mainly by greed
Of striping our planet of things it needs
do we ever learn to leave things to nature?
or do we want to leave these problems
to our children to inherent and hopefully solve
why? oh why? are we so blind and careless
of the treasures left to us to safe guard from harm.
People please wake up and learn to cherish
and more importantly to teach our leaders to do
what's right for this lovely world of ours
There are deep creases in palm of the harried hag’s hand
Her wizen face is wrinkled, freckled, there is a brown spot on her cheek.
She has a surreal expression; her voice is gravelly and ethereal.
her tent seems mystical, with embroidered crushed velvet table cloth
taro cards are next to her left hand, she lifts a palm over her hard runes
there is a beautiful purple crystal ball in the center of her work table
I feel her mystical powers, and my hands begin shaking like autumn leaves
An energy I do not recognize begins zapping lightning bolts around the room
The hag smiles, there is no fear in her, I can see this is her normal.
What do you write about? I am asked at least once a week
I try to give people tips, but I am not sure what they seek.
anecdotes are crawling out of my woodwork and my mind.
some of them are wild and funny, others dark and unkind
Nouns and vowels fly through the room and hit me in the head
Sometimes adjectives and adverbs shake me awake as I lie in bed.
So I give the best advice to everyone who asks me so.
Just write something fun and clever, about something you know.
Toss words down in a notebook and don’t try so very hard.
It is tremendously easy and fun being a witty young bard.
Or an old crone who likes to toss stories down on a page.
This is the most wizen advice you will get from this sage.
immodest face woman
she lives her natural true self
keeping vast secrets
back on her what-knot shelf
we can tell by her face
she has wizen wise ways
immodest face woman
lives many glorious days
How would I find the Wizen Goo?
Follow the colorful mushroom trail said Boo.
But I have never seen it! She said, feeling blue.
Some cannot, he admitted, I cannot help you.
The mushroom trail was put in by the fey.
In the middle of the forbidden forest so gray.
Some cannot see it, they cannot find the way.
The ones who do are merry and gay.
How would I find the Wizen Goo?
Follow the colorful mushroom trail said Boo.
But I have never seen it! She said, feeling blue.
Some cannot, he admitted, I cannot help you.
The mushroom trail was put in by the fey.
In the middle of the forbidden forest so gray.
Some cannot see it, they cannot find the way.
The ones who do are merry and gay.
Co-Exist, Neither Of Us Fear The Knife
I saw the crescent moon in dappling sky
Gentle wind danced about and moaned
Earth spoke quite clear and told the crescent moon
Let all liars that lie now be stoned
Does not the wizen owl straight on home fly?
I saw the vast crowd of bright twinkling stars
They danced to tease the dark looming night
I ran with fast wolves, our hearts beat as one
We watch the Heavens and saw all was right
And fought not to create vicious scars!
I saw life ebb and truth sat there quite clear
Nobody cowered, nobody fears.
Heart and spirit seeks wisdom and true life
Co-exist, neither of us fear the knife!
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Feb. 12th 1972
Note:
Inner Peace Quotes:
“Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.” —Saint Francis de Sales
“The life of inner peace, being harmonious and without stress, is the easiest type of existence.” —Norman Vincent Peale
“Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.” —Dalai Lama
who wears short shorts?
she wears short shorts.
a cute song from the seventies.
with preteens bopping around showing their cute fannies.
who wears short shorts today?
In this restaurant a pair of them just went shuffling by.
beneath them there were wobbly, jiggly, wiggly white legs.
the wizen crone is at least eighty.
does she have a mirror?
can she see?
she follows an old guy out.
I nearly fall out of my chair when she calls him “Daddy”.
surely he could tell her.
Nearly Man
I nearly wrote a song today
I was so close to the edge
I nearly turned the world away
I stood out on a ledge
And I dreamed that some day
Life would recognise me
I’m a dog a wizen stray
And lucky to be free
I nearly won my first game
But second place is okay
Only one person I can blame
For my mediocrity
I’ll win I’m sure before I die
Wonder what the prize will be
I want so badly to learn to fly
Over this stormy sea
I nearly wrote a book you’ll read
But couldn’t find how to end
Am I the antidote that you need?
Or just a needy friend?
David Cox 26/01/23
Great grandfather tree was wizen and wise.
He kept to himself, southeast of where the crow flies.
We ventured toward him whenever we needed advice.
He was usually entertaining the ducks, locust and mice.
Everyone in the woods gravitated to Great grandfather tree.
His advice was sage, succinct, and as easy to follow as could be.
You almost never got to speak to him alone, he was surrounded by kin.
Sometimes they had to part to let you wander on in.
An old wizen monk
Lived high in the mountains
Miles from the nearest settlement
He spent his days
Deep in mediation
On the bubble of illusion
One day drinking tea
He reached nirvana,
Wizen flowers lost
it's not the waltz of flowers
sounds the farewell waltz
she comes in with an attitude
probably from the Orient
left over from the Crusades
she is wise, wizen, old.
she flicks ocean onto my cheeks
I taste salt
ocean breeze is the boss.
To wake up every morn with a lively song,
And inhale the stephanotis fragrance strong,
Will it not urge us to pass our summer day,
Forget the night and chase our bad dreams away?
Dawn arises above the far horizon
Thoughts and meditations really wizen,
We accept God's gift given freely to us,
Enjoy nature which He has given us thus.
Let us savour our blue lively skies so clear.
Employ all our hours in good and not in fear.
Make certain that what we do comes from our will,
Tasks of honour and charity we'll instil.
The hummock
There is a hill behind the houses round and soft,
I call it a mother hill it welcomes you and murmur
How do you do?” and let you sit on a boulder
to enjoy the peace.
If you sit too long enjoying your sentimentality,
it wakes, the boulder gets cold and hard to sit on.
The wind suddenly blows, has a fragrance of Siberia and Vodka.
So, you walk around to keep warm and see wildflowers
hiding behind big stones.
You cannot pick them if you do? They will wizen and bring rain.
Walk gently now the aroma of spring is in the grass.
Behind the knoll, it is October grey and out of sight where no trees grow.
It is the mother´s hill burden concealed from the world.
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