Are And Dee

Like an angry wind,
He stirs things up,
Makes people’s minds bend,
Like a tree bowed over double,
Amid a storm’s leftover rubble.

She follows him,
Like a loyal dog,
Pleasing his every whim,
For her card’s,
Pulled from the same deck,
And it’s not that hard.

What a life they lead,
Nosy, nosy, nosy,
Laughing ’til their cheeks are rosy,
Happiest when meddling,
Putting on,
A Christian facade,
Thinking they’re not sinning.

Pretty is,
As pretty does,
These are two,
Downright ugly slimy slugs.

Oh it sickens those,
Who’ve been bruised,
By their ruse,
But what can we do,
Other than pray they stray,
From their wicked ways.

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.

What A Terrible, Terrible Man!

Maurice Michaels,
Is he cursed,
Or is it patterns and cycles?

Maurice Michaels,
Any lady,
Who’s tried that man,
Has turned tail and ran.

Maurice Michaels,
King of all psychos,
Calls cute sweethearts,
Little hoes.

Maurice Michaels,
Denies the King of Kings,
Meanwhile,
He’s got absolutely nothing.

Maurice Michaels,
Likes to stare,
At the pretty lady,
Who for him,
Will never care.

Maurice Michaels,
Sickeningly shady,
And with a personality,
Straight from hell.

Maurice Michaels,
Lacks self esteem,
What he wants,
Will never make it,
Past a dream.

Maurice Michaels,
Without willpower,
Picks on others,
Can’t do shit for himself,
So studies habits,
And makes fun of another’s.

Maurice Michaels,
A big round belly,
The rest of him well balanced,
He looks so silly.

Maurice Michaels,
Never was one more rude,
And just so happens,
He’s also a prude.

Maurice Michaels,
Has a heart of stone,
All he does,
Is piss and moan.

Maurice Michaels,
Always willing,
To lend an ear,
To someone wanting,
To laugh and sneer.

Maurice Michaels,
Sends out bad vibes,
They mirror,
Where his heart resides.

Maurice Michaels,
Is one fucked up guy,
Never has one,
Told more lies.

Maurice Michaels,
Doesn’t know how to have fun,
He may as well be done.

Maurice Michaels,
Is spiritually blind,
To the devil,
His soul has been signed.

Maurice Michaels,
A first class jerk,
Not worth the work.

A Note From Above

Dated: The Beginning Of Time (AD)

To: My Children

Maybe not what you want,
But what you need,
Will you accept the gift this time?
I pray you heed.

Other opportunities,
May seem like something,
That you’d much rather,
But in the end,
If you go with another option,
You’ll wish it was by my hands,
Your story had been penned.

Something or someone,
Is always knocking,
Some should be kept,
The rest told to keep on walking.

It seemed meant to be,
Sewn up so fast,
Until it exploded,
With a powerful blast.

It turned destructive and deadly,
Provided by,
The wrong authority,
Instead of me.

Wake up!
Wake up!
I see every second,
The whole play-by-play,
That’s leading you astray,
As I hover close by,
Waiting on you,
To open your eyes.

It’s right under your nose,
Being handed to you,
On a silver platter,
But it’s not what you had in mind,
So to it you are blind,
Not what you wanted,
So by it you’re daunted.

It’s in your way,
Like a stumbling block,
But only because,
You’re hard-headed like a rock.

Time’s ticking away,
On your mental clock,
You see just one road,
And it’s making your shoulders,
Carry an unnecessary load.

Receive what’s right,
In front of your face,
Stop shoving it away,
Because in the end,
You’re the one who always pays.

And the price every time is hefty,
You sometimes feel guilty,
Or dumb or embarrassed,
I suppose such is the way,
When the area is so gray.

You wish it could be,
More black and white,
And cause much less,
Of an inner fight,
But the war is real,
So just remember,
My saved sinner,
No matter which you choose,
Only one’s the winner.

Each time you lose,
Is like a blessing,
Accidentally refused,
Seek wisdom before,
Making a choice,
If you elect to listen,
I’ve a very loud voice.

Signed With Love,
The Lord God Almighty

You May As Well Convulse Into Hysterics

Why so serious?
Why all mysterious?
Let laughter overcome you,
Fill you up,
Body and soul,
It’s one of the rare things,
That can make a broken soul whole.

Its presence,
Heightens the appeal,
Of a personality,
I look for it,
To come from deep inside the belly,
To consume the whole being,
So much so,
Mind and body become unworkable.

After quick observation,
If one doesn’t possess it,
And would rather stress,
Or beocme depressed,
Communication,
Must come to cessation.

It’s like some peoples,
Have a stick up their ass,
The temperament,
So ramrod straight,
They’re very easy to hate.

I knew someone once,
Humorless and solemn,
Who would have been,
One in a million,
Except he didn’t know,
How to laugh and relax,
So he had to be told,
To make tracks.

One of those all-natural cures,
That’s been around for years,
But no one uses it these days,
Without first checking it over,
Thirty-thousand ways.

A real miracle medicine,
All it’s values are pretty impressive,
It even stops excessive aggression,
Preventing you from committing sins,
Amongst other things.

Better to be loud and bold,
Than cowed and cold,
Despite what you may have been told,
Go ahead,
Get drunk on it,
Altogether lose your head,
Save the gloom,
For your own private tomb.

Angels Await

**********

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.

**********

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.

**********

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.

**********

Huh

Is it worth it?
Time will tell,
If it’s the path to peace,
Or another highway to hell.

Similar situations,
Always cause such irritations,
But it takes a leap of faith,
To sort through the rakes,
And since someone must do it,
Here I go,
Sorting through it.

Funny how,
A split-second decision,
Made in the here and now,
Can either complete your vision,
Or cause in your life,
A major collision.

Unfortunate how,
You cannot know,
Until riches flow,
Or you’re dealt the blow.

Last I checked,
Hindsight is supposed to be perfect,
They call it twenty-twenty,
But would foresight really be disastrous?
Or also fucking fantastic?

How horrendous,
The former always shows its face,
Way too fucking late,
And the latter only exists,
For those with special gifts.

**********

Something to think about,
As you wear yourself out,
Waiting, waiting, waiting,
To see what’s the ending:
Is that your faith that’s bending?
In turn making your mind,
Do some overextending?

**********

The Fate Of The Attractive

It’s constant paranoia,
And makes a mind miserable,
Can cause gaps not bridgeable,
It’s in a way terrible,
Really,
Being so pretty.

And that’s not snobbery,
It’s pure and simple fact,
Brought to light by comments,
And the way total strangers react.

You can’t begin,
To imagine the bullshit,
Take as example,
The way other humans,
Will lie or throw a fit,
Without reason,
Just to take your name and trample it.

Personality plain and simple,
This lady once,
Was brought up by peoples,
Stuffed to the gills with oppressions,
And the results are this,
Her unsurpassed beauty,
Brings on sporadic depressions.

It sure would be good,
Going for something to eat,
Without being looked at,
As though she was the meat,
By someone she doesn’t even,
Ever want to meet.

Let’s see,
If this can be worded correctly,
To make you know,
All strangers are suspect,
Because her mind,
She must protect.

With a friendly shoulder touch,
She didn’t want to,
But smiled and said hi,
To the odd individual,
Day in and day out,
She ignores the looks he gives,
Because she finds him pitiful,
And knows he just wants her,
To lay claim on the one they all call beautiful.

This is daily dealings,
Trying not to hurt too many feelings,
Hers must stay on mute,
Lest she be labeled as trouble, drama, and problem,
Eventually,
For sanity’s sake,
She’s desperate to get a break,
All this acting cute,
To those whose balls deserve a heavy boot,
It sickens her,
And she’s not sure,
How much longer it can occur.

Done,
Just so fucking done,
She refuses to fight an uncalled-for battle,
That shouldn’t need to be won,
So she will withdraw,
And stick with those,
Who walk on hooves and paws.

Welcome To The Real World

Too good to be true?
Yes I think,
Maybe that describes you,
About to admit to happy,
Then I feel it,
Fly right past me.

Is it worth the hell?
Time will tell,
Overnight elated,
Then lightning fast deflated.

Electricity,
Pouring into and out of me,
Not too long,
And it bordered on too strong.

Good,
But always shy of good enough,
Luckily,
I’m made of fucking tough stuff.

Nothing special,
So I’ll wrestle,
To get past this devil,
So I don’t go mental.

We’re all the same,
It’s only a game,
I know all are scum,
We’ll have to see if one,
Is better than some……….