Category: Poetry

Time, again, to inventory light.
Name the things in our lives that are bright.

Not the light at the ends of tunnels.
But, the light that every age funnels…

Into us, onto to us & colors our joy.
Those giddy feelings; boy meeting boy.

For, living provides us plenty bad.
So, we latch on to each happy fad.

Whatever helps us believe in hope…
&, that we’ve more light than dark; to cope.

Sooo much funny’s birthed by semantics.
Filterless speech meets syntax antics.

Funny rhymes, like smidgeon with pigeon.
Lingual laughs could be a religion.

Tone can be funnier than you’d think.
Then, weird pairings suddenly go clink.

One phrase is ending with “try & hide.”
The next finishes with “cyanide.”

There’s more than enough laugh-lines to find…
When, to funny, we’re bending our minds.

“God is watching you.” I’ve heard say…
God lurks in mysterious ways.

He peeps our doubt & peeps our praise…
Watching from the shadows most days.

In His name, a soldier slays.
In His name, nations are razed.

Those faithful fervent fully crazed?
Hope to avert God’s burning gaze.

His winding narrow holy maze?
Feels so mired with passé mores.

His omnipresent shepherd phase?
Staring thru us; His sight X-rays.

They say, of course, that, “Jesus Saves”;
But, Creepy attention?…“Jesus Pays.”

Eeny meeny mining co.
Seize a billionaire’s cash flow.

Bypass every obstacle.
Snatch fast; spin that monocle.

Make so broke they can’t buy sins.
Steal from them their gloried wins.

Bar them from your bank accounts. 
Freeze their loopy tax discounts.

Mine their holdings, force sea change.
Confiscate their crypto strange.

Drain their Teslas, cancel fame.
You know which ones carry blame.

All in aid to make them sweat.
Fire would do the trick, I bet.

They’re doom & gloom alive & walking.
Bleak & dour misery talking.

Never a positive thing to say.
Never wake up happy…day by day.

Lit up at war & lifted by downs.
Watching from sidelines for out of bounds.

Privilege born & still pissed about it.
Insisting every slight be counted.

Angry & yelling so impassioned.
Throwing down in everyman fashion.

Hardship’s just a matter of vantage.
Entitled resentment feigns damage.

Prominent hearts & intentioned well.
Commiserate all the way to hell.

With those looks, maybe cunty ain’t it.
Homely & mean girl? These don’t fit.

Jolly & warmth should be touchstones.
Lilting hopeful & grateful tones.

Every kindness met with sweetness.
Mean & cheap highlight just weakness.

Depth & substance are welcome traits.
Surface concerns belie ill fates.

Whiny, needy & insecure.
Faults one is best just to abjure.

All is not lost, if one can change.
Narrow minds can still claim blank range.

What’s the saddest part of pride’s fall?
They’re blind to needing change at all.

Sweeping chaos into corners.
Lumpy rugs noticed by scorners.

Out of the way’s all one can do.
Never out of sight or mind, you.

The creeping mess past watchful time.
Disorder searching for lights lime.

Honeyed words & forward action.
Ugly blocked from gaining traction.

Sisters grim in codependence.
Neither conjures independence.

Good witches balance discord’s scene.
Our constant battle’s evergreen.

Clear space & make live memories.
Never cede ground to enemies.

What will be left when fates use knife?
Tidy, but dusty, well used life.

Sticking round ‘cause I wanna see.
See life & time reveal what be.

Ancient proverbial curse crime:
“May you live in interesting times.” 

So weird & wacky here & now:
Attribute to a hex somehow.

Interesting times can’t be all bad.
They glitter both good & bad fad.

The trick is found where focus lies.
One finds shit when searching for flies.

While aware of rougher waters:
I’m a well seasoned hope spotter.

Yes, interesting times harbor ills.
But, I employ my bright side skills.

I’ll try to describe it, if I can.
One day’s experience, sunlight’s span.

I wake & push thru pain to PT.
By noon exhaustion has taken me.

Screaming at muscle groups, “Unclench Bitch!”
As the tension creeps in like an itch.

Then the tremors, the offending wag.
Tight rocking: unbelievable Nag.

Half painless & the other half hurt.
Pain plus embarrassing makes one curt.

As all things, the spasm leaves in time.
Ache & anxiety feeding rhyme.

I hide away home til night eats wake.
Each day, this is what my living takes.

I am my own adoring boyfriend.
My own heart & soul, I do defend.

 I listen to & laugh at my jokes. 
I won’t disappear while “getting smokes”.

I catch glimpses of myself knowing…
That I see myself & I’m growing.

Each eve, brings burnishing reverie.
Each morn, I wake to a newer me.

As all of us, I get caught in ruts. 
Still, I rise up; no ifs, ands or buts.

Reckon I’m a hell of a lover.
One day, I may, share with another.