Category: Poetry

Celebrate what you got; not what you made.
You might be surprised by the ways they slay.

It’s not our job to make them compliant.
Nor do we set the bar at defiant.

Bit of reliance but in the end launched.
Able to tend their wounds & keep blood staunched.

They will show the kindnesses you’ve showed them.
The way you sound is their first voice within.

You will do your best as past adults have.
Cows nor Bulls…if always left Calves.

So many things get one out of bed…
Stitched into Life is better than Dead.

Not least among them is watching you.
You joined & made two more hearts from two.

None are fractured parts from broken wholes.
Just solid results from solid roles.

For, you two founded a font of Love.
 From which, everyone is availed of.

Both different & like as rivers run.
Rending & feeding terrain til done.

Time, in time, claims almost everything.
Lucky, you’re each other’s hammock swing.
 
Without this year’s traditional silk…
I gift steel wool words…my verbose ilk.

FOR: H & P

HAPPY 12th ANNIVERSARY!

Sometimes the love we give is all we can muster.
Still, give it we do, even faded in luster.

Yes, we always show up, if grumpily present.
Leaning, brooding & generally unpleasant.

Though, we do engage at any chance for a chat.
Unsolicited Opinions is where it’s at.

I’m not speaking in terms of the young or the old…
Just the ones who learn & are perennially bold.

For, Bold’s a fucking given 24/7.
Boldly still speaking after every learned lesson.

Whatever they have made that cannot come to light…
Is tucked in the fold of continental divide.

Whomever was known unto the monsters they made…
Became monsters too when for creation were paid.

However they’ve survived they have earned a birthright…
Existing thus far only visible at night. 

Wherever they decide to roam with mate & brood…
Must be a place where people don’t mind being food.

Why would I empathize with monstrous Frankenstein?
Maybe I can sense struggles similar to mine?

Stop auto-populating data for shit you don’t know.
You’ve super computers in your palms; self-educate…go!

All world history’s there…with all of the art & all our maths.
Also, there are cruel & hate driven algorithmic paths.

There are communities there of both destruction & hate.
Yet, admittedly or not, most are just seeking a mate.

We would not destroy all the roads to avoid the crashes.
Existence doesn’t dissipate along with our ashes.

All roads taken towards knowledge wind thru hearts before brains.
Learn what your soul is drawn to…embrace your path’s joys & pains.

The facts are met commonly by indifference.
Thus, in her time, strike diseases of ignorance.

Fear has done greater harm than truth ever prevents.
Think doomsday cults & extinction level events.

True, truth often comes along with pain on its heels. 
It’s rarely deadly & after the pain it heals. 

Too, ignorant of smallpox, TB & X-Rays.
All have died & are still dying…even these days.

“Immortality” sits not with words on my tongue.
I’m getting notes of “forever” & hints of “young”.

I do not know why my sight redirects.
Why must I plunge to Cthulhulian depths?

Why can I not just take in the surface?
Why is each detail a gift with purchase?

Of it all, why do I see backs to fronts?
Why must I understand the whole at once?

It’s fine, I’m accustomed…my question stands.
Why does my mind need to grasp with both hands?

I can’t cherry pick views that work for me.
Unfiltered’s the cost…if I want to see.
 
Time & force, my understanding, whittle.
 Maybe I will just go blind a little.

I don’t care about relevant obsolescence.
I’ve learned the visual history of our presence.

Give us a new toy to occupy our focus.
When we are distracted, strip our bones like locusts.

I’ve almost fifty years watching, & living, life.
All its happy souvenirs rest upon a knife.

Absent of its circumstance, a memory floats.
Blade’s edge only seen when one digs deep in the notes.

All of joy only matters to the enjoyee…
Plus, those few who can truly enjoy what they see. 

Excuse me, do you have time to read my paltry words?
Just my daily entry parsing brain whey from brain curds?

Do you know a term for sticky, misty fogs of doom?
I think that I have one right here…how about a “brume”?

Like sorting pills to days of weeks; I index my mind.
Even then, days do fly places I’d not thought to find.

A few months ahead, sometimes, I will jot down a phrase.
It will sit ungerminated many moonlit days.

Yet, rain & sun always fall enough to feed a root.
Rare are days that pass by, where my muse gives me the boot.

Deign a golf-clap for the killers of wonder.
You know who you are & who you’ve deemed under.

I’m always just south of right & north of wrong.
I’ve not seemed to be either in so, so long.

I study, I learn & I wait for an in.
I proffer my opinion; but it won’t win.

I take it all back to the dusty blackboard.
Work problems with what stolen time can afford.

Grown excited I’ve found what you wanna hear.
I’ll say what I think after swallowing fear.