Angels Await

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Super short,
Oh so fucking beautiful,
At times full of shit,
This accurately describes,
Each of them,
But even now,
I’ve a love for them,
That will never quit.

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Beyond the clouds,
These two wait for me,
And right now,
I look up from below,
Wishing that I too could go.

About now they’re walking,
Streets of gold,
Called names like Glory Road,
And Hallelujah Boulevard,
Pretty as any picture,
On a Pacific Island postcard.

I wonder what they do,
Now that trouble,
Isn’t able to be gotten into?
Because they’re Earthly behavior,
I’m sure isn’t tolerated,
By any Angels or the Savior.

I sure hope the boy is over his fear,
And lets the pony near,
Because together,
Is always so much better.

Truth be told,
They may be better off,
Up there as they trod down,
Golden roads,
Time will pass,
But they will stay as they are,
Never growing old.

Most call retirement,
The best years of their lives,
But I don’t return that sentiment,
As the years after being laid,
Into graves,
Is the only time we’re thoroughly released,
From being this world’s slaves.

Of course I wish for them back,
That cannot be helped,
But when it’s making me feel down,
I imagine them there,
Wearing their jeweled crowns,
And gone from their faces,
Are those ever-present frowns,
They seemed too frequently to wear,
When they lived with me here.

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I guess it’s a giant place,
With plenty to see and do,
But still I’ll be insulted,
If I find when it’s my time,
That they never looked back down,
Glancing out beyond space,
For a reassuring glimpse of my face.

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Fact

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Happy Easter!
He is risen!
So it’s your own fucking fault,
If your heart and mind remain imprisoned!

I bet you’ve heard since the cradle,
About God and his Angels,
How a beating and some bloodshed,
Made it so you’re able,
To keep on living once you’re dead.

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Eggs and candies,
Put in baskets,
With plush chicks and bunnies,
Delivered or hidden,
By a fictitious rabbit,
Has become the modern day,
Holiday habit.

A way to show remembrance,
To the man who wore,
That crown of thorns,
To the Friday night fight,
That was foretold,
To take his life,
But through God’s might,
Came out alive,
On Sunday morn.

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A week before the first Easter,
Jesus arrived in Jerusalem,
And the people acknowledged him,
By throwing palm branches,
Hereby declaring,
Peace and victory’s coming.

Dogwoods and lilies,
Not the most commonly known,
But they’re symbolic to Easter,
Showing there must be someone,
Up there on a Throne.

The wood made the cross,
Where near the lilies sprung up,
As Jesus hung there,
These along with an empty tomb,
Were the recipe that made rebirth,
Possible for all,
Who walk the Earth.

Now we have butterflies and lambs,
Emblems of Easter,
That convey this same thing,
Crucifixion and resurrection,
For the forgiveness of sins.

We make hot buns,
With a cross on top,
And eat them the day,
Our not-yet-done sins were bought,
Buns in which even,
Their seasonings have deep meanings.

On Easter’s Eve,
A big beeswax candle,
Clearly marked,
Stating the cross,
As being Beginning and End,
Spreads God’s light,
To all in attendance that night.

Who knew baby chicks and new outfits,
Share similar significance?
……….Both define new life in this instance.

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Now we’re all blessedly able to pass over,
The old timer’s traditional,
Passover sacrifice,
Because when Jesus died,
Becoming the Lamb of God,
There was no longer need,
For the ritual to be applied.

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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……….

Hey Little Kitty-Kats

In this classic case,
Of being in the wrong place,
At the wrong time,
They picked up their pace,
When the Strange One,
Opened up his jowls,
And let out a heinous howl.

Being so much smaller though,
The cats were too slow,
And the stray wolf,
In need of a pack,
Turned them,
And now there’s no turning back.

Basic house cats,
They were out on a stroll,
For some Halloween laughs,
And sad to say,
That was the last time,
They’d have a normal-cat day.

It was a fun time,
People watching,
And clawing jack-o’-lanterns,
Until they were unrecognizable,
Until a dog walked by,
Who was quite sizable.

Weird vibes emanated from him,
But they paid no mind,
Until it was too late,
Now running was out of the question,
They were out of time.

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That was last year,
And now it’s been a whole ‘nother year,
Halloween,
Has come ’round again,
It’s been accepted all around,
Although it still feels foreign.

Now they’re wolves,
The Strange One,
Couldn’t find a pack,
His magical abilities,
Made others of his kind stay away,
As though he were overrun with fleas.

Due to lack of fans,
The Strange One took matters,
Into his own hands,
He made his own pack,
Out of house cats.

There’s no way out,
For him now,
Though he’s happy to have a pack,
There’s one thing that,
He cannot stand,
And this is when they meow.

All the other wolves,
Howl and bark,
Sometimes in the daylight,
But mostly when it’s dark,
His mostly talk,
When the sun is up,
And each time they meow,
He wishes they’d just shut up.

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Strangely enough,
The pack is content,
You’d think they’d be upset,
But they’ve got a silver lining,
Because to them,
Their master is in debt,
They’re spoiled rotten,
And they’ll never let what he did to them,
Be forgotten.

Ruined For Good? …..Let’s Hope Not

Blacker than the Ace Of Spades,
More ornery than the Overseer Of Hades,
It’s convinced its keeper,
This is how said one’s life should stay.

The One who within it beats,
Hears nasty beasts,
Screaming things insane,
That get received,
By its brain.

To said one,
The unseen results are dangerous,
It’s worth a wager,
That said one is full of anger,
Though it’s hidden so well,
An average acquaintance cannot even tell.

No,
Said one wouldn’t want to hurt a soul,
But to attain a goal,
Those who care must go,
And so the hardened heart beats out its message,
And said one ‘teaches them a lesson’.

The dear owner is taxed,
To the max,
He means well,
But the way things come out,
Us who pay close attentions,
Can see the incensed inner hell.

What a fucked up way to live,
From time to time I wonder……..
If my soul was also that color,
Might my mind too bellow like thunder?

What In The HELL?

One day,

Out of the blue,

Two tiny marks were noticed,

Upon a thumb,

“Where the fuck,

Did these come from”!?

Was the thought,

Until the mind,

Was practically numb.

Little brownish red dots,

That looked a lot like tiny birthmarks,

Why were they,

Never noticed before?

They couldn’t be recent

But they weren’t remembered,

As being there,

Just a year or two before.

Into the head came a notion,

Was this proof of past lives?

Once someone had said,

The fear of certain fanged brutes,

Was likely due to being bitten,

While alive,

In another lifetime,

And this is why,

The feeling of panic,

While in their presence,

Never subsided,

No matter how much,

Time had elapsed.

In theory,

Fang marks,

Are only made,

By things infected by dark,

But are they really polluted?

Because after all,

They had ancestors once,

On Noah’s Ark.

There was strong suspicion that they might,

Be from a snake bite,

There was,

After all,

The infliction of a phobia,

But was that all paranoia?

Or was that fear founded by an incident,

And therefore legitimate?

Though there are tons of creatures,

Sporting fangs,

Not all result,

In the night terrors,

For instance,

It’s known a house cat,

Would not do that,

But who’s to say,

They weren’t wandering in the jungle,

And met head on,

By a lion?

But oh yes,

That jungle beast’s mouth,

Would be too big to leave these marks,

That little kitty though,

Righto! – that one’s a maybe……………

At one point in the past,

Could there have been a Mer,

Who played in ponds,

And swam in seas?

So many creepy critters,

Occupy these places,

And many are with,

Tiny fanged faces,

Yes this one is actually,

A real possibility……………

Very well,

I’ll admit there is no way here,

To be totally and absolutely sure,

Just the same,

These marks are pointing favorably,

Toward this being right,

It’s so strange they seemed to surface,

Pretty much overnight,

Even so I think it’s clear,

These marks were put,

On a former version of a self,

By the object of their deepest fear.