The love song with no lyrics
that is the reality of my life.
The empty tin with no noise
that is my cry.
The holes I patch
Open up new wounds.
The pressure of pain bursts out loud
like a broken water pipe.
All my memories are stored away
in a dark cloud
that rains
every time I recall
the fantasy of our love.
You wanted laughter,
so I rehearsed a smile.
I tied my soul to my words for you.
I learned to hold the storm,
swallowing the thunder
so your sky stayed clear.
The beautiful storm,
the sweet salt,
the calm sea,
the perfect love
oh, what a fantasy.
I patched the flame
with borrowed words and lullabies,
played our record
until it ran out of words.
I became fluent in silence
just to keep your peace,
but it screamed inside me
louder than love ever did.
I held the door open for you for so long,
I forgot how to close it on myself.
Oh, the irony of love.
Every smile I wore for you
left bruises on my soul.
Now I drown in the floods
I never let out.
And I wonder…
was my love letter
mailed to the wrong address?
There is paint painted on me
It is a kind of paint that whose pigment can dust
And cause a different kind of stain on you
If and when;
You glide on me,
You lean on me,
And colide with me.
I keep myself away because of that difference
So as to avoid such kind of confusion
"You treasure what's yours but again confuse it"
Eager to prove me wrong but will you believe me?
Give ears to listen to the different kind of story!
The story that makes my paint that way.
Will you distinguish and help me see
If there's that I don't see that I should
Yet you shouldn't always expect that
"There must be something you see that I do not"
The truth is You never know whether I looked further
Further than your eyes made there sight
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Though even so
How much can you make up from those two statements
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Or is it that I am the foolish one and,
Don't deserve to sit amongst you
Just because I have a different opinion.
The Wrong Green
Amber Scummm…
Frothing.
This Is Not A Pleasant Poem.
In The Fellowship Of
The Pond!
NOT the MOON!
NOT the Amber Froth
ITSELF!
NOT the Fellowship Earth.
Though Just As Demanding.
Wagging Their Pitchforks…
PITCHFORKS! YESSSS!
But NOT For Pitch
Slimy In Itchy Green Amber
Scowling, Reciting:
“Isn't IT Rich! Isn't IT Rich!”
Pouring Outside The Box
‘Til The Box Is Replaced
With A Vice And A
Cardboard Box Of
KNIVES!
That’s NOT Very Nice.
(Pond Scummm.)
-Gray Squirrel
09-13-2025
Life is full of steps and stages
As we learn what it is to be alive.
And every stage is marked
By the recognition that we were wrong
About what it is we now know.
Like a box within a box
Or nesting Russian dolls
Continually we open onto a new world
A new level of understanding.
We talk of insects and crustaceans
Reptiles and amphibians shedding their skin
But we do it too, just more subtly and subjectively,
And as more evolved beings, continuously.
What is it we shed besides old dead skin?
Old dead ideas, outgrown, outlived
Making way for the new
Slowly changing the programmed self
Into a newer version, gradually adjusting
Our identity
With software updates
That continually need the bugs worked out.
When does this all end?
Never, Life says
With every new layer of skin.
(9/13/25)
If you've a yen
(it's not zen)
you may bet your bottom dollar
while integrating yin yang cosmology
Chinese philosopher and scholar
Dong Zhongshu
(good old you know who)
favoured heaven worship results
over and above traditional cults
altho' a man well-read
he often wrote instead
yet to avoid confusion
knowingly said, 'Jump to assumption,
arrive wrong conclusion.'
morning went all wrong
sideways and inside out
there was a cat hiding somewhere
possibly in the coffee pot
a goldfish slid up through the drain
landing in the sink face up,
I could not find a wristwatch
and Daddy’s pocket watch had stopped
One shoe? That’s all you got? I asked myself
I was snarly and surly and not happy about school
You don’t have to be said my mother
It is Saturday
I went back to bed
I think I'm starting to realize something.
I'm on the wrong ship,
I guess i didn't think things through
when I came on this trip,
I thought that we had made a bond
love at first sight,
I went to her house, that same day,
was there all night,
When I left I whispered in her ear.
I love you. I felt her body tense
That's why I don't understand this
and why it don't make sense.,
I called her later on that day
She didn't answer her phone,
All that would go through my mind
Was if she was there alone.
That night, I couldn't get much sleep,
Too much was on my mind,
At one point through that lonely night
I caught myself crying,
That morning, I jumped in my car.
And went to her, place,
i knocked and when she opened the door
she slapped me in the face,
How dare you just to show up here
And sending me those texts,
I don't know what you thought about last night.
But to me it was just sex,
Sometimes I just need to release. It's called companionship.
I wanted a relationship I'm sorry
I was on the wrong ship
friendship can be great
looking when will I find you
will that be today
are you now looking for me
will our search go on and on
there you stood looking
oh you came out of no where
what a big surprise
our friendship is a flower
fun and laughs are everywhere
our fun and laughs turn
it all goes so very wrong
hurt and pain from words
tears running like a river
why did our friendship go bad
The Left and Right today
Are like East and West,
Different worlds that never shall meet,
Or if they do meet
Won’t hear or understand much
Of the other anyway.
Each is in a bubble,
Comfortable and secure.
The difference is,
And it’s a difference that makes all the difference,
One bubble is based in LaLa Land
While the other is at least grounded in truth,
As dirty and ugly as that sometimes can be,
Yet a truth that can at least call a spade a spade,
And not have to nervously glance over its shoulder
To see if someone thinks that’s somehow racist.
Shovels matter after all
In fact where would our civilization be
Without them?
And yet in our world today
Only half of us are needed,
And it’s always, never
The other half.
(8/16/25)
As so many shoppers
consistently doing all manner of wrong
fail to return their trolleys
from whence they came to where they belong
it really irks when I leave work
drive my hybrid to the supermarket
circle the car park for what seems hours
and can't find a place to park it
the question may seem odd to some
and yet I have to ask it
why don't those self-same lazy people
do to it what they'd do with a shopping basket
I don't take one side or two
In disputes about who’s right
And who’s wrong – it could be you
Or it could be me tonight
But the next day it may turn
The other way round, the pendulum
Swings and all I had to learn
Will be lost in setting sun
Now the nightmares get too real
Heroes drop their marble masks
Neanderthals tore down the deal
With the Pithecanthropus
And the Cro-Magnons are baffled
Why does it have to start again?
Reptiles shed the skin and set
The new manual for the brain
Don’t attach me to the schemes
That you treasure or despise
I’m the mantis in your dreams
Far beyond thy truths or lies.
Somewhere, a poem exists in our minds about love, life, politics, natural disasters, religion, and contentious issues.
Suddenly, political uprisings and wars emerge, with ISIS and figures like Donald Trump acting as modern crusaders.
Here we are, as citizens, once more feeling disheartened, striving to discover beauty in life amidst chaos, seeking a balance between who is right and who is wrong, caught up in the obsessions with politicians like a game of tic-tac-toe.
Somewhere, there exists a poem, one that is waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting.
There are too many words and not enough ink to print them, with too few people who care about such issues.
The ups and downs caused by natural disasters stem from the manipulations within the political landscape, the missing emails, the concealed birth certificates, and the beauty queen who gained weight.
What about the real issues? What about the economy, war and famine, child molestation, bigotry, and deception?
Suddenly, political uprisings and wars arise, with ISIS and figures like Donald Trump as today's crusaders.
Here we are, as citizens, feeling disheartened once again.
What a beautiful morning,
how sweet is the song !
Then I heard the news,
and the world is still wrong.
(07/24/2025)
thought i'd stand by you
while you lied and cheated
you thought i'd watch
and help along the way
well you thought wrong
i want no part of it
AP: 2nd place 2025
You can't hold it both ways, In meaning.' You
Are either direct.' Or directionless..And thus
In a mess.' No less-en-ing, yet less kenning will ensue.' Though
You deny..Its more obvious..Showing through'
True.' Reality denying.? I find it at best tedious'
Not to mention trying.! And now cov-idiocy is
Really dying.' Symtoms seen, idio-tantric bouts
And much de-crying..Tantrum-atic antic's its
Virtuless incandesacnt-cy liquid spleen venting, venting' yet never airing.' Instead there
Is resenting and vitriol..And severe dis-connect, much fruit less conversation, born.? that really
Cripples the formerly upright soul; struggle of noble
Nations...How do I quantify.? Highlight the prints of such scorn.!
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