Category: Poetry

Fight, if you must, over your imaginary friends…the ones with great book sales?
But do us a favor, if you will, do stop believing when whichever side fails.

This “I am right & you are wrong” over intangible myths & dogma dusty.
Crumbled papyrus from more primitive times to the modern nose comes off musty.

Then there is prayer, if it works for you…great; just don’t forget there’s science proven.
If you are sick, hold both schools in your head & see which has more room to improve in.

If belief gives you hope, then its purpose is served; belief, faith & hope are the hooks.
Yet, all three exist on their own without gods…so why must we spill blood for old books?

If peace & paradise on Earth are your goals, then abandon your lines in the sand.
Have faith in your neighbors, believe in folks; give the milk of human kindness a hand.

Seems like all we do is fight by the moon & daylight.

Seems all we’ve done is pray for imaginary sway.

Seems like most of wars fought are to rewrite common thought.

Seems we justify death to control our reach’s breadth.

Seems like we’ll never evolve since fictions have no solve.

He dines on blossoms & ruts in the wood.
Naked as birth but for greenery’s hood.

He is the scion of the Holly King.
Tasked by the nymphs with ushering in Spring.

Green clover carpets grow where his hooves trod.
All saps rise for his risqué wink & nod.

He plays a flute made from his father’s rib.
He draws fur & feather from Winter’s crib.

His name is Prince Jack; he brings in the green.
His works are afoot…but he’s rarely seen.

Here we go; we’re doing this.
Just a frail unlikely kiss.

Neither one of us compelled.
Just a wish to once be held.

Now is all we can manage.
Just a rest…without baggage.

It’s enough to lend you trust.
Just a moment lost in lust.

We part ways & both look back.
Just a lovely heart attack.

Again, it’s a drive more than a maintenance call.
It is urging me on towards strange feelings in thrall.

Somewhat ticklish, like an itch at the back of your mind.
Scratching seems impossible for that spot where you’ve pined.

So, distraction is the order that’ll save the day.
Dig in to a list of to-dos as time whiles away.

The ache dies down while idle hands have been labor booked.
But…one second of silence & the lure’s firmly hooked.

The gears shift up & something proactive must be done.
In deed, the reeds must be tended; the nagging has won.

Direct or indirect, my heart lives on my sleeve.
So, why must I speak up, bide time & take my leave?

Just in asking, aren’t I clear; where my import lies?
Why are my queries met with tutting & with sighs?

Busy is a fine excuse…overcome by speed.
Still…consistently surprised by the same soul’s need?

Maybe it’s a blindspot & nothing more than that.
Or, maybe weakened skill; meeting folks where they’re at.

After all, the signs are clear; begging you to care.
Soft & hard balls line your court; your turn…if you dare.

We hope we have cleared behind us; the pathway each day we made.
Yet, shadows cast both afore & aft; some part always in shade.

We know which way we are headed & we know from whence we’ve come.
Though, much drops from sight between the turns, life has no tidy sum.

Adding to the world each day, we hope to leave more than we take.
Still, death’s the dot on every story; it matters what we make.

Much will go to rot while peoples fight for imagined patches.
Time-proof lines just don’t exist & our maps are nowt but scratches.

Maybe we should throttle down on counting all of our movements.
Out-create what’s been destroyed & plan tomorrow’s improvements.

I never actually know how it’ll turn out.
I just get a feeling of what a thing’s all about.

I won’t say psychic or any of that tedium.
I’d sooner claim small than ever be a medium.

Empath is another title I’ve been urged to take.
Still, I think donning a  mantle is mystique’s first mistake.

Then there’s sensitive; it begs underestimation.
So many people treat weakness like a contagion.

After all, I’d prefer to fly under the radar.
Keeping to my own counsel has kept me safe…so far.

An earnest smile in the dark dispels it.
A helping hand slows the rush just a bit.

A listening ear can halve a trouble.
A grounded laugh safely bursts a bubble.

A watchful eye can lend some fresh courage.
Kind glinting eyes can cause a hearts stirrage.

A stout heart can make the fearful feel safe.
A familiar tone can both soothe & chafe.

A ready spirit can help conquer all.
If I can find you, I’ll certainly fall.

I make the words &, in my time, I make most true.
Just how many people can say the same of you? 

Some words do slip right past me, in my manic quest.
Still, most of my effort is spent to manifest.

Eyes cracked open by dawn & plans await doing.
Life gets in the way; but goals are worth pursuing.

One at a time, I sort my past & present vows.
Switching, fairly, back & forth; as daytime allows.

Rare thoughts of the future don’t stretch past tomorrow.
Make good where you can…or words become your sorrow.