Plot Twist!

Wait,
I thought it was set in stone?
Sewn up tighter than a drum?
…..But now this has come!

In truth,
Something from the situation,
Has always been a little aggravating,
Though a finger couldn’t ever,
Quite be put on it,
What can I say,
It’s always also,
Been plain as day,
And a subject for which I pray.

Now arrives this curveball,
Thrown at me from nowhere,
So unexpected,
But not actually a problem,
And I assure you,
If it’s the answer,
It won’t get rejected.

This can only go,
One of two ways,
And I’m counting the days,
‘Til this is the past,
And good for a few laughs.

Such a delicate decision,
With two top-notch choices,
But only one can win,
And so an invisible,
Battle begins.

To be sure,
Not one knows,
What’s going on,
But me and the,
Almighty God.

With a war in the spirit,
And only one truly right answer,
Letting Him provide it,
Prevents the choice,
From being a cancer.

Soon the solid rock will surface,
None will be winners,
But none will be losers,
His holy will will win,
And forever after,
The life He intends,
Will endure to the end.

Chunk, The Chocolate King

**********

He’s not hollow,
He cannot melt,
He can hop like a jackrabbit,
Though he’s got no flesh or bone or pelt.

**********

Oh what a hand he was dealt,
The very first chocolate rabbit,
That one-hundred-thirty-five he is now,
Is not even felt.

Created on a whim,
In an old store-room,
He was a sight to behold,
And caused a new tradition to unfold.

When his campaign was done,
The evening of Easter, 1890,
As soon as the store was locked,
Away he hopped.

That chunk of chocolate,
Ran off like a rocket,
Before he could be melted or dumped,
And it so happens he ran through,
A patch of magic dust,
Blowing by on a gust.

And never was he ever,
Heard from again,
That is,
Not by men.

But when little bunnies say their prayers,
He is the angel,
God sends that way,
And gladly he watches over,
The little dears.

He is ever so big,
And lives in his own,
Hidden grove of figs,
Far from humans,
And their modern rigs.

There’s a hollow in a hill,
Under tree number four,
Covered with a green trap-door.

Carpeted steps lead down,
To a hardwood floor,
In a giant room,
Fitted just for him.

When he first ran away,
From that window front,
In P.A.,
This is where,
He chose to settle,
Hoping no one would find him,
And see fit to meddle.

What’s he been up to,
The last how many years?
Well he calms the fears,
That reach his ears,
From the above dears.

Then makes millions,
Of mini-mes,
In his factory,
Across the street,
Under tree number three,
Which he distributes to stores,
Shopped in by people,
Like you and me.

His brand is exceptionally fine,
And bought to be indulged in,
With fine whiskey or wine,
Oh! Look at the time!
Go and get you one,
Before it’s time to dine!

His life-size bunny plushies,
So many try,
To make their products as perfect,
But theirs all lack,
When compared to the ones made,
By this aristocrat.

**********

Only once,
Did someone think,
He was to eat,
When he was lounging under,
Tree number one,
To get some fresh air,
While avoiding the sun.

But they broke a tooth,
And on him,
Not a mark was left,
So they were forced to flee,
Without a chance,
Of committing the theft.

**********

I Don’t Even Like The Ocean But Whatever

I saw a river rage,
Right into the sea,
Then radiate,
Serenity.

My soul was calmed,
As if it had,
Just read a Psalm,
I went from mad to glad,
In two-point-two.

That salty air,
Found only there,
It seemed to care,
It took from my mouth,
The unholy swear,
And from my eyes,
The unseemly glare.

Loud motors roared,
From racing boats,
And the water then,
It seemed to gloat,
“Aren’t I just,
So powerful?
Like a cat-5 gust,
Give me an hour,
And your heart will be full,
And about to bust”.

“Full,
Instead of hollow,
You’ll gain sweetness and love,
Instead of being shallow”.

Oh, that hits!
Hits me square in the heart,
It left its mark,
And how it smarts!

Now here it is,
After dark,
I pace up and down,
And though it’s took all day,
I’ve lost the frown.

I hear waves lapping,
At the shore,
And I feel a dark power,
Walk away,
Forever more.

It’s replaced with a light,
That’s come to me this night,
My head feels hazy,
And I bet it sounds crazy,
But I’ve got back my might,
And stand ready to fight.

Dubious

On the one hand I get it,
On the other it’s a mystery,
Either way,
It’ll go down in history.

On the one hand I hate them,
On the other there’s much compassion,
Either way,
I’m not laughin’.

On the one hand I’m over it,
On the other not even close,
Either way,
Keep me bound in your ropes.

On the one hand it’s needed,
On the other it never needs be seen again,
Either way,
It affects the brain.

On the one hand I can’t wait,
On the other I’m scared shitless,
Either way,
I’m far from listless.

On the one hand I think you’re crazy,
On the other you’re my solid rock,
Either way,
I won’t balk.

On the one hand it’s a happy place,
On the other sadness saturates,
Either way,
There’s no telling what awaits.

On the one hand it seems so easy,
On the other nothing’s ever been harder,
Either way,
That’s an order.

On the one hand it seems predestined,
On the other it’s not even a possibility,
Either way,
I bet it’d have durability.

On the one hand life’s amazing,
On the other I wish I were never here,
Either way,
I’m glad that appeared.

On the one hand that sounds tasty,
On the other I just looked in the mirror,
Either way,
The picture couldn’t be clearer.

On the one hand it’s been long awaited,
On the other it every time gets pushed away,
Either way,
It looks here to stay.

On the one hand it’s there in plain sight,
On the other I’ve looked high and low,
Either way,
It’s not yet a hell no.

On the one hand that happened yesterday,
On the other it could repeat today,
Either way,
Take time to pray.

Your Salvation

It doesn’t follow fashion,
Or change with the times,
A piece that can be paired,
With this or that,
To even satisfy,
A spoiled brat.

Beauty that cannot be broken,
Such a precious token,
Something to be treasured always,
At which you can,
Repeatedly gaze.

Ageless really,
Without a shadow of a doubt,
Never wearing out,
Not ruined by,
Passage of time,
Going on and on forever,
And stopping never.

Lovely then,
And lovelier now,
Truly deserving,
Of a bow.
A real classic,
Sometimes rustic,
And sometimes fancy,
But forever fantastic.

It’s magnificence,
Will never cease,
Love for it,
Will not decrease,
From great-great-grandma,
To great-great-neice.

Eternally sought after,
More so than love or money,
With it even salty situations,
Seem a little sunny.

Timeless,
It’s essential,
You wouldn’t trade it for the world,
It will always have potential,
There’ll never be a need,
To throw it away,
Even when,
You’ve become old and grey.

The Invisible Ones

The misfits mesh with me,
I like that fire,
Strong as a sting,
From a honey bee.

It doesn’t get quenched,
It can quiet,
But hidden embers,
Are always there,
Waiting to stir the air.

The misfits mesh with me,
The freaks and the geeks,
So much more desirable,
Than the cool ones,
Whose lips leak cheek.

Their hair has flair,
They mean what they say,
Their speak isn’t weak,
No matter what,
Day of the week,
Or what mood,
Churns in their gut.

The misfits mesh with me,
I see their personality,
Making others hide and flee,
But it makes me laugh with glee.

It’s so delightful,
And I don’t care,
Who toward them is spiteful,
That sarcasm,
With me won’t cause a chasm.

The misfits mesh with me,
And for this I am not sorry,
Rather than full of things angry,
Their eyes hold pain,
And are starry.

The difference between,
Them and the popular,
Is really nothing,
Except which demons and such,
Bother them much.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Your head will become,
Quite the circus,
When everything starts to surface,
It’s totally bizarre,
How it comes from nowhere,
But also everywhere.

No matter who you are,
And where you’re coming from,
You’ve seen some shit,
That you can’t forget,
We pack it away,
Until when one unexpected day,
The feelings left behind,
Spring forth in our mind.

The choicest ones,
Are always amusing,
They’ll take you on,
A wonderful walk,
You’ll smile all rosy,
As if smelling fresh-cut lawn,
Or cinnamon buns.

Some seriously sadden,
So sharply and so strongly,
When you go back there,
Bound wounds open afresh,
And you become such a mess,
That it’s a tad in doubt,
If you’ll manage to crawl out.

The worst will beat you down,
Make you good and angry,
So you wear a frown,
Your blood will begin to boil,
As you recall being treated,
Like a bed of rotting soil.

Once in awhile,
There’ll be one that amazes you,
And makes you wish to travel,
Back to when that one particular,
Was a fresh-made smile.

All the while you’re being assaulted,
With this reminiscing,
Some disappointing,
And others satisfying,
As these recollections flood you,
Mind, body, and soul,
Don’t let them take total control,
No,
Not even the happy moments,
Or you’ll end up going,
Down a deep and depressing hole.

Killer Silence

At times it seems,
My head’s went all-out insane,
No one can tell,
The total hell,
One has been through,
As they judge,
And push their views,
From downright different shoes.

I felt it slide,
Across my side,
Creating a big divide,
It was a sword I swear,
For I felt a blade tear,
Though one was never there.

I thought a bumble bee,
Had done and got me,
So bad was the sting,
And something sure did pierce me through,
But when I went,
To pull it out,
No stinger,
Was anywhere about.

I felt the weight,
And the roller skate,
As I got bowled over,
I was plainly bruised and shaken,
And things were broken,
Even though,
You can’t see nothin’.

I’ve become deaf,
From its sound,
Though my ears,
Hear just fine,
Because it’s everywhere,
And it’s all the time,
Nothing shuts it off,
So they are blocked.

I’m crippled from the bullet,
Shot through my back,
And it has thrown me,
Far off track,
The deck seems stacked against me,
Though to those looking in,
Nothing unusual’s been goin’ down.

My eyes have converted,
They now see with my mind,
Which renders me blind,
I gotta say,
It’s very scary,
Seeing clearly,
But with eyes,
Blind as blueberries.

Help,
Is just around the corner,
Help,
Is just around the bend,
But time is of the essence,
And though to the Help,
It’s right on time,
The sufferer isn’t sure,
How to survive,
‘Til its deferred appearance.

Spiritual Warfare

Almost,
I’m used to it,
But almost doesn’t count,
Proof being when the thoughts,
Come flooding back,
With their malevolent attack.

Sneaking in,
Through the backdoor of my brain,
Causing my head to hear crazy,
I see why some of the weaker ones,
Go insane.

I get it,
How that one became deranged,
Why he chose his own day to die,
Uncaring he would cause,
Us to cry.

It’s making sense now,
Why some do things,
That make the rest of us speechless,
Except for maybe,
A “what the fuck” or a “wow”.

Things are crystal clear now,
How some people,
Seem to suddenly go dumb,
Throwing tantrums,
Like one who still,
Sucks upon his thumb.

It’s just hit me,
Like a ton of bricks,
How it is that demons,
Managed to take over,
The way his mind ticks.

It’s becoming understandable,
Why they say their head is, like……….,
But can’t find the words,
After all,
Heads are not expandable,
So inevitably all of this commotion,
Will one day lead to an explosion.

Presently it’s plain as day,
The reason one day he’s normal,
The next he’s doing shit unfathomable,
Going quickly,
From angel to infernal.

Currently,
I myself feel it,
And it’s in no way pleasant,
I want to rave and rant,
But must remain silent,
For to project this everywhere,
Laying it all bare,
What would be the point?
When without a doubt,
No one even cares.

The who and what and when and where and why,
They don’t even matter,
It’s impossible to think,
The way the thoughts are stirred together,
Like a gone-wrong batter.

Almost,
I’m used to it,
But almost doesn’t count,
Proof being when the feelings,
Won’t go away,
No matter how much we pray.

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.