The Most Difficult Easy Task In The World

Sort of like the color blue,
He’s acting bold,
Kind of like navy,
Then another day,
I’d describe him as more pastel,
Listless and boring,
With nothing to say.

Snow ,
Whether slushy or fluffy,
Can be compared to her,
She’s much the same,
As the color white,
Because like that,
No matter what’s going down,
Be its consistency boring, annoying, cold, or stuffy,
Her color’s hues barely vary.

One changes face,
To fit the situation,
Everyone is a fan,
Because he always fits,
As the ideal man.

The other is the same,
One hundred percent of the time,
Always speaking her mind,
Fake is not her kind,
She cannot do it,
No matter who would approve it.

Apart anger boils,
And progress spoils,
Then when face to face,
All seems to get erased,
Brains go blank,
The only thing in mind,
Is this attraction they chase.

He feels unworthy,
Of her beauty,
Uncool and past his prime,
And that she may just want,
To bleed him out of,
His last dime.

She feels unaccomplished,
Almost stupid,
Next to him,
He’s so educated and polished,
It leaves her,
Speechless and astonished.

Each day this is left unchecked,
One or both is vexed,
Please guys,
Just meet in the middle,
Once and for all,
Resolve this riddle.

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……….

Hidden Dangers

********************

Watch your back,
The world’s on crack,
Be careful when trusting one,
Unless you’re ready to take on,
A loaded gun.

********************

A fly on the wall,
As they sipped on cocktails,
The things heard,
Quite absurd.

A spy disguised,
As one of them,
Their secrets prized,
Now stolen by outsider eyes.

A turtle that moves,
Slow as fuck,
Unnoticed by you,
Because you were drunk,
He heard you spilling your guts,
To a trusted friend,
Heard every word,
From beginning to end.

A bird on a branch,
As your thirst is quenched,
Sitting your ass,
On the secluded bench,
Now you’re rested,
It’s seen what you resume,
When you go back to doing whatever,
Alone, of course,
Well…..
So you assume……

Your child at play,
On your bad day,
Too young you think,
To absorb background happenings,
The next day things that went down,
Get told to one,
Then continue to make,
Their way around.

Going out,
On a stormy winter night,
Thinking this will hide,
Your dirty deed tonight,
But,
………WRONG!
As you are hidden,
So is the other,
Because the storm,
Was that good of a cover.

A snake in the grass,
Posed as one having your ass,
Presently inside your world,
Knowing you through and through,
Until one day,
You they overthrew,
Now suddenly,
They’re through with you.

********************

Watch your back,
Cut no one slack,
There’s always a knife,
Poised and ready for attack.

********************

The Mind Behind The Face

Do u know what it’s like,
To walk out the door,
And have everyone staring,
Hoping to score?

No?
Well read on………
There is never a respite,
Daily dealings with multitudes,
Ranging from them with inflated egos,
To those who are shy but desperate.

Day to day life,
Just going about my business,
And just like the rest of you,
My time is precious,
Therefore it’s not always a compliment,
And it’s long since got old,
Yes I DO resent it,
And no I don’t care how deep you dug,
To find the courage,
To be so bold.

At the local grocers,
Because shocker – I’m just like you and need food!
When you stop and say I’m a vision,
Just because I’m not flattered,
Doesn’t make me a lesbian,
It may, however,
Mean that yourself in public,
Needs supervision!

Going out on a weekend night,
Because my week’s been a fuckin’ fright,
There to relax and unwind,
And catch up with a friend,
I haven’t seen in some time,
Just because you struck up conversation,
And I was too polite to thwart it with diversion,
Doesn’t mean my smiles,
Were meant for flirtation,
What a sad world it is,
I can’t believe tact is interpreted like this!

Do not lie!
I saw the eyes follow,
When I passed by!
And do not tell me I should expect it,
Be honored and put up with it!
Your only reason being – my looks!!??
That is moot!
And grounds for nothing,
But to show your ass my boot!

Not all of us ladies,
Go around acting shady,
Myself,
I’ve got dignity,
And just because you want it,
Does not entitle you to a piece of me,
Are you beginning to see,
You were wrong about me!?

Bonfires And Wildfires

This is what it’s like,

To be a flame,

Powerful, mighty,

And entirely untamed.

Hott as I dance,

Purposely putting on a show of destruction,

I am great fun for everyone,

But once in awhile,

That’s not my style,

I get angry and engulf,

Whatever’s in my sights,

For miles and miles.

Lo and behold,

Rains have been scarce,

Now’s the time,

For me to show I can be fierce,

I took hold,

With just a stray spark,

And it won’t take long,

For me to leave,

My devastating mark.

When I’m contained,

I’m pretty and fascinating,

You’re safe to sit at my side,

I’ll be warming and calming,

Not causing pain,

As you’re at my reins.

How can a thing,

One and the same,

Be wild and hair-raising,

Then painted in another light,

Be a most welcome sight?

Well I can have no boundaries,

And consume a whole wood or town,

Or stay within,

Walls you’ve laid down.

Old Hat

I’m sitting here wondering why,

People put an expiration date,

On something not brand new,

How is it not still great?

And not still worth its weight in gold?

Do you have an answer?

Or will your mouth just continue to hammer?

At what age does this classic,

Become trash to fill a sack?

Is it actually,

Without a doubt,

Truly fucking worn out?

Or might you be kind of close-minded,

Just following the twisted thinking,

Of your fellow mankind?

Antique to me means much,

Not out dated at all,

And as such,

I’ll keep a hold on it,

Because an original,

Versus a copycat,

Why the fuck,

Would I give up that?

Old fashioned,

Isn’t necessarily behind the times,

No need to pawn it off for cash,

Anyway,

When did gaining another year become a crime?

An heirloom, a treasure, a relic,

Not ancient or creaky or clunky,

It shouldn’t be cast as an outcast,

To a pile of unacceptable junk,

But be a collector’s item,

To be recycled,

To brighten your days,

And to remind you of the good old ways.

Lock, Stock, And Barrel

What is 100 proof?

It is full strength,

Not watered down,

Not diluted.

100 proof,

Comes off as in-your-face,

It is flamboyant,

And not for the faint of heart.

If angst is inside,

It should fucking shine,

Not be kept bottled up inside,

So others won’t think you corrupt,

But the same can be said,

For experiencing joy or pain,

And even of feeling mundane.

Own yourself,

At 100 proof,

Don’t go all lame,

To become a crowd pleaser,

Camouflage,

To acquire an unnecessary entourage –

……….That’s just too fucking ridiculous.

Not many can take me,

At 100 proof,

They expect everyone and everything,

To be just like them,

To speak and act and react,

A replica of what they would,

Newsflash motherfuckers,

I’m not a brainless block of wood!

There’s many things,

That come 100 proof,

People, faith, and alcohol,

Do you have it?

Can you take it?

Or will the trust put in you be shaken?

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 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.

Our Association To The Ocean

While looking out,

Over the ocean,

I was wishing I could bottle some up,

Kind of like a little potion,

But after thinking that through –

It’s not necessary,

As there’s something ocean-like,

Already inside of you.

Every day we make waves,

Some on the surface,

And others internal,

Ourselves we may not realize,

But when seen through another’s eyes,

They move a bunch of life’s bits,

Causing eternal changes,

To happen in every size.

Each and every one of us is powerful,

In body,

In mind,

Or in both combined,

In some it’s kept hidden,

Then in others it shows,

Whether it’s been brandished,

Or has snuck out unbidden.

We can all be colorful,

And yes sometimes that’s wonderful,

Though at other times,

Not so much,

Maybe our good moods,

Are like the Caribbean Sea,

Beautiful,

Translucent,

And aquamarine,

And our bad moods,

Are like the Bay of Biscay,

Dark,

Stormy,

And seeking prey.

Woven here and there throughout humanity,

Something sure smells fishy,

Of course I mean that figuratively,

I am referencing those with salty personalities,

Hence is the notion,

That they’re like the ocean.