Solo Confidence

The little boat,
Drifts along,
In its heart,
Beats a psycho song,
Full of anger,
Full of angst,
Mad then sad,
It goes far beyond bad.

The song appears,
To come and go,
Caused by whatever weather,
Has determined,
The river’s flow,
But from the banks,
We never know,
To what extent,
It’s taken its toll.

Look it over closely,
Before taking the little boat,
Out for a drive,
Look every day,
In case a storm showed up,
And riled its waters,
While you were elsewhere,
And it needs a repair.

You can’t know for sure,
At only a glance,
So why take the chance?
From where you’re at,
There’s no telling,
If winds were blowing,
Making holes that aren’t showing,
But will be made known,
After you’ve taken it,
Away from its home.

You must remember,
The storm has no friends,
It tosses every boat,
In its path,
And some are made,
To resist its wrath,
But some just can’t withstand,
A strong storm’s demands.

Though it’s controversial,
Technically,
Boats are optional,
And it’s more than acceptable,
To let that boat,
Be for someone else to float.

Though the river is mandatory,
How one navigates it,
Is their own little story,
A boat is escapable,
If you’re capable.

All Cut Up

Intensely felt,
Gashed down deep,
But unable to bleed,
Caused by a thing,
It feels like from which,
There’s no being freed.

It’s immense,
Needing stitches,
Though it won’t be sewn shut,
The best of soothing salves,
Can’t begin to mend the halves.

Weighted down,
By something not seen just felt,
Nearing now to the bottom,
Not quite but almost drowned.

Invisible,
But so powerful,
Easy to forget it isn’t obvious,
Since it’s gathered you such an audience.

Uncomfortable,
As a broken bone,
It assures,
You never feel at home,
Though you know it’s just in your mind,
And indeed,
You’re in reality just fine.

It seems fake,
Compared with headaches or toothaches,
You’ll be told to suck it up,
And made to feel like a fuck-up.

All too common,
Because society is rotten,
Sick in the head,
Is what will be said,
An insult,
That will make you see red.

Never talking of emotions,
Always leads up to explosion,
Tragic though,
That you must choose between,
Being wrecked,
Or causing some bullshit commotion.

Two Fourteen

This thing,
“Valentine’s Day”,
It reminds me of those church people,
Who only remember,
On Christmas and Easter,
Who is King and Master.

It does not matter,
What they say,
It’s just stupid,
And it’s always been that way,
It does not matter,
What is said,
If it makes you that excited,
You are fucked in the head.

A heart worth snagging,
Will never be impressed,
By heart shaped boxes,
Maybe I miss my guess,
But if that’s all it takes,
For a fucking yes,
You haven’t won a thing,
Worth all that bragging.

Mr. Fancy Pants,
Is taking her,
To the dinner dance,
How very predictable,
But the rest of the year,
You know they’re miserable.

Making time,
By skipping work,
As if he’s not,
Usually a jerk,
As an added touch,
He’s picked up cheesy flowers,
Knowing it’ll amp up his advantage,
That when you’re out on the town,
You will let your guard down,
Mentally sign yourself up,
Together for another year,
Bound to be,
An even deeper disaster.

Bears and candies,
Line the bar,
When you wake up,
And head for coffee,
In your jammies,
This is supposed to make right,
Every time there’s been a fight,
Please don’t fall for it,
Another fucking year of bullshit.

**********

It’s not the life for me,
I prefer to be free,
You may call it lonely,
But I say,
It sure as shit,
Beats your misery.

**********

Ramifications Of Remaining Silent

First impressions,
Aren’t always right,
I’ve found sweet expressions,
Sometimes hide unsaid confessions,
Someone you think,
Will be a love,
You may have to tell,
To go fly a kite,
Though with an old enemy,
You may eventually,
End up friendly,
Sharing a similar destiny.

We’ve all got things,
We keep hush-hush,
Just remember though,
They’re not all,
Little innocent secrets,
Once we know,
They can deal quite the blow.

Meeting others,
For the very first time,
Lately I’ve learned,
To keep this in mind.

It used to be fun,
Getting to know new someones,
But recently I’ve had to realize,
Enough is enough,
Better to criticize,
Than have wool once again,
Pulled over my eyes.

You think you know,
All there is to know,
About that hoe,
And her friend Joe,
About your beau,
And your long-time foe,
But this so-called knowledge,
Is likely laced with lies,
Just half-truths,
The rest of which,
You’ve chosen to blind your eyes.

Knowing everyone’s complete history,
What they may have done,
And how they actually feel,
It would change both your stories,
And neither of you will ever know,
If it would cause the other,
To become cheery or sorry.

A silver lining……….
Not all untold thoughts,
Are ones that bring things,
Such as shame or strife,
Some if you were to find out,
Would probably change for the better,
Your whole way or walk of life.

For sure,
If more people,
Would become less paranoid,
And make their thoughts speakable,
Rather than keep them classified,
It’s possible we’d attract more like minds,
And with one another,
Become overjoyed,
Rather than always being annoyed.

Can Trouble-Free, Be For Real?

Just where in the mother-fuck,
Is easy street?
It’s a confusion I guess,
Because something for one it might bless,
But put another in quite the fucking mess.

If I’m fortunate enough to make it,
To easy street,
Will I be given gracious greetings,
And presented with treats?

Maybe it’s not here at all,
There’s a possibility,
It can’t be uncovered,
Before we cross over.

Wherever it may be,
I wonder what’s to see,
And what’s waiting for me,
When I reach easy street.

What does it even mean,
To find easy street?
Is it time to kick back relaxed,
And stop being overtaxed?

Do you have a clue,
What there is to do,
Upon reaching easy street?
I assume there’s constant fun,
Because everything’s already done?

Are worries washed away,
When you set foot on easy street?
Is forgetting misfortunes,
A side effect of finding that place?

Maybe easy street finds us,
When we’ve all but given up?
Must you be invited to go there?
But by who……….
And could that be why it’s so rare?

Is easy street,
Even a factual place?
Or is it just fictitious?
Of this I’m suspicious……….

Downfalls

We’re usually blind,
To our own failures,
So if you don’t mind,
I thought to be so kind,
As to give you some hints,
That may save you from a bind.

If your weakest link,
Isn’t very strong,
You’re gonna have problems,
The rest cannot fully make up,
For what is wrong.

Maybe it’s a part of your being,
It could be someone you’re seeing,
But if you don’t cut it loose,
There’s a guarantee,
It’ll be your noose.

It’s time to take the bull,
By the horns,
Instead of keeping the wool,
Pulled over your eyes.

Who’s that person,
Toppling you over?
They’re a rusty link,
That you should rethink,
Nothing but,
A fair-weather friend,
On which none can depend.

You have a choice,
To use your voice,
Silence isn’t always golden,
It will leave you beholden,
To your own mind,
Which should be a crime.

Leaning too much,
On that tasty crutch,
Has made you feeble and fat,
And a slave to that,
It’s as easy,
As the words ‘hell no’,
But it seems you choose,
To self-abuse.

Always talking a big talk,
But seemingly unable,
To follow it up,
With walking the walk,
Whatever it is,
Causing this mental block,
Is a plastic link,
In a chain made of rock.

All of that arrogance,
You’re so full of self importance,
In the end your conceit,
Will equal defeat,
Your chain to you,
Might seem sturdy,
Too bad though,
That this trait makes it,
A tad less hardy.

I Sit Here Contemplating……….

What if people looked to their holy bible,
For their sole means of survival,
Instead of giving up,
When on a stroke of bad luck?

What if grass grew pink,
And with lots of kinks,
Would the animals still want it,
For their main cuisine,
If it were not straight and green?

What if there was no sun,
And there had been none,
Ever since the world had begun,
Would there still be such a thing,
As the dark being frightening?

What if people could fly like birds,
But it was normal not absurd,
Would airplanes still have been invented,
Or the idea not have even been presented?

What if the weather were more even,
And there was no such thing as seasons,
If that were so,
Would Earth be mild, hot, or cold?

What if people were not progressive,
And didn’t desire things impressive,
Would we regress back in time,
And if so,
What exactly would be on the line?

What if the pants of a liar,
Truly did catch on fire,
Would the world turn into a great big blazing pit,
Because it would catch everything around it?

What if everyone got along,
And stood united and strong,
Would the world be one big affair,
Or would people still form pairs?

What if the world were colorblind,
And colors had never been defined,
Would it become less challenging to choose,
Things like clothing and shoes,
And could said articles,
Still reflect one’s personality and mood?

What if more people would fight,
For what they know is right,
Instead of following easy street,
Though they know it ends in defeat?

What if coming home,
Were a better option than to roam,
If people were comfortable,
Sticking to their roots,
Would this not prevent,
Quite a bit of disputes?

What if blue did not mean sad,
And red did not mean mad,
Could anything else describe,
These emotions to which our brains subscribe?

What if money,
Wasn’t everyone’s honey,
If it had never been invented,
Would the world be less demented and tormented?

Something……….I’m Not Sure What……….

A blazing beam,
In this trying time,
Is what I fantasize of finding,
But I guess the fucker is hiding.

It can come in the form,
Of divine intervention,
Or a human,
With decent intentions,
………If either even exist?
I don’t know…….on that I am torn.

Something bright and sunny,
And sweet like honey,
Pleasant like pin money,
Rather than bad like blood money.

Rocks are being thrown,
So far I’m dodging,
And they haven’t broken any bones,
Fingers crossed,
That they never quite hit home.

Hmmm……….
What is happy,
And could make one forget,
That recent hands dealt have been crappy?
Anything that pushes,
Some positivity,
Would be positively welcome,
Something that’s strong,
And shoves this shit,
Down where it belongs.

It can show up by day,
Or by night,
Even give me,
An awful fright,
As long as it makes,
Life flow right.

Luck of the Irish,
Rain down upon me,
As though I’ve captured,
A leprechaun,
Or ran across a rare four-leaf-clover,
While walking across my lawn,
Turn things around,
Please pull me out,
Of this imaginary ocean,
In which I find myself drowned.

Under a spell,
Originating,
From the depths of Hell,
It’ll take something magical to smash it,
Like a unicorn,
Blowing a mighty horn,
Or a centaur,
Dead set on winning a war.

Trying to hit the nail on the head,
By filling me with dread,
Things coming,
From all sides at once,
Hoping I’ll stay bummed,
And never resume,
Happy hums,
But……….fuck that shit!
………. Surely I’ll soon shake off,

These things that suck……….

Consumed By Rage

I’m chilled to the bone,

Frozen through and through,

I’m cold deep down,

Another warm Florida night,

God I wonder,

What could have caused me such a plight?

It’s the attitudes,

Which at me have been threw,

How does anyone know,

How many faces are possibly hid,

Behind the eyes of each and every ma’am and dude?

Fuck!

I’m shivering inside,

It boggles my mind,

Do they all think I am blind?!

Icicles are hardening my soul,

Thanks to these motherfucking trolls.

I feel the temperature of ice,

Being slowly transported through my veins,

It flows along,

And I silently scream in torture,

Oh when will this nightmare be over?

Blood so cold now,

It has turned to snow,

The flakes and drifts,

Threaten to send my mind over a cliff,

I can’t think straight,

Everything’s in a haze,

Thoughts more confusing,

Than a harvest-time corn maze.

I’m so sick of lips that lie,

And eyes that spy,

They make me scream,

And they make me cry,

My body is becoming,

A furnace of anger,

Explosion is an imminent danger,

This high heat,

Hot enough to melt bars of gold,

Has gone and turned me stone cold.

What Does The Wind Say?

Just like us with souls and goals,

It seems to have many sides,

Also expressed by voice,

Which we all hear,

Without much choice.

How good it feels,

Prancing across my skin,

As I’m outdoors soaking in sweat,

Working hard,

So as my needs will be met,

Still though,

That is not its reason,

To be out today,

It’s speaking a language,

Meant for one of its own,

Meant for another,

Of nature’s wonders.

Whether it’s letting out a shriek,

Or a sound almost meek,

I listen with interest,

And try to imagine,

What might have happened,

To spark its voice into action.

I hear it raging down the ravine,

I know it’s not talking to me,

But rather to,

The old oak tree,

Still I wonder what it’s saying,

The way I hear it howling,

It’s sounding mighty mean.

The other night,

It whipped around real strong,

Blowing in all directions,

Not letting up,

The whole night long,

Was it maybe forewarning a comrade,

Of some coming mourning?

During a storm,

Letting out ferocious gusts,

Could it just be playing rough?

Or is it emanating its power,

Over some rebel flower?

On a warm calm summer day,

All is still,

But the slightest whisper,

As it lightly puffs,

Not even strong enough,

To raise a cloud of dust,

Now where did that come from?

And why did it even bother?

Was it maybe murmuring some reassurance,

To the Mother Earth?

Down by the ocean,

It’s heard loud and clear,

In the lap of the waves,

Against the shore,

When its voice gets louder,

The waves pound fiercer and faster,

Showing the world,

Just whose voice here is master.