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?

Whose Disciples?

Satan’s here,
The sheep sing and rejoice,
Though that’s not who they think they’re praising,
When they use their voice.

Sound asleep,
Even while wide awake,
Their very soul at stake,
Brainwashed they are,
Worshipping a creep,
Thinking He’s the shepherd of all sheep.

During this war,
They need His help,
Like never before,
They ask for a handout,
But it’s not who they think,
That has answered their call,
So they’ll need to make one more.

They think He’s come from up high,
But the guy is sly,
No way was He ever,
The One Who Lives In The Sky.

Masquerading,
As the One True Messiah,
And answering pleas,
When times are most dire,
He’s bending,
The unsuspecting,
To do His dirty work,
Going undercover,
Behind Law and Church.

Some gather together,
To glorify His name,
While others alone,
Play into His game,
Either way,
To His famous name they pray,
Thinking it’ll lead them,
To never ending sunny days.

He’s everywhere,
But white as snow – my fucking ass!
……….Religion’s a shady shitshow,
And unnecessary,
This I surely fucking know,
Yes they’ll end up with Him,
But it’ll be Down Below.

Be nice!
Be good!
Behave!
…………But be no one’s fucking slave!

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.

Before

What is done,

And what should be done,

Too many times,

Are two different things.

Life at this time,

Has lost its shine,

Do people’s dirty little tricks,

Too make your stomach sick?

Let us rewind,

Hundreds of years,

So as to get away,

From so many vile liberal minds.

I’ve been known to wonder,

Why wasn’t I born,

Way back when?

Eventually though,

It’s concluded,

That I was,

But then,

Like everyone does,

I was reincarnated,

Time and again,

Until now here I am,

Part of this modern world,

That’s congested with hatred.

How many previous,

Lives did I lead?

What did I get up to?

And did I succeed?

Does that even matter?

To these I’ve no answer.

I’m sure there were many,

Some in the times when being rich,

Required barely more than a penny,

And other souls were so far off,

That a walk to visit neighbors,

Would wear a hole in one’s socks.

I hereby suggest someone,

Invent a spell,

That can take a body back,

To when things were simple,

To when for the most part,

Society was civil,

Rather than sinful.

I beg of you,

Let me go back,

To whenever it was,

That my first life was lived,

Modern conveniences be damned,

The peace would more than make up,

For what I would lack.

Independence Day 2020

The Earth is beautiful,

But the World is one hot mess,

Are we all fuct?

Have you all given up?

Because I was born,

The same way I’ll die,

And that is free,

One hundred percent,

Not just to some degree.

Some people seem to know,

Just what buttons to press,

To start another war,

It about makes me envious,

Of those about to go knocking,

On death’s door.

Before all the land was settled up,

The pioneers had the right idea,

They were wild and free,

And lived off the land,

Never submitting to laughable laws,

Of another man.

Slow and steady,

The years passed by,

The population grew,

And everyone thought,

They knew what was best to do.

Now there is this piece of shit,

Known as politics,

No matter how far you travel,

There’s no escaping it,

They’re at your local grocery store,

And at the nearby sea shore,

Face it,

Once you’ve dared,

Walk out your door,

You’re not free,

And nothing’s fair.

Now here I sit,

Trying to make,

Some sense of it,

It’s looking like half are lying,

Just to set the others crying,

It won’t be long,

And the tables will turn,

Somehow everybody’s right,

Though both sides say,

The other is wrong.

This year,

Freedom is not ringing,

It really hasn’t for some time,

Well last I checked,

My taxes are paid,

So I’ll do as I please,

In this supposed Home Of The Brave.

Excuses to sidepass unconstitutional rules,

Should not be essential,

And a possible arrest,

Should not even have potential,

I ask,

Why celebrate the Fourth,

If you don’t discern its worth,

And if you do indeed identify,

Rather than fall prey to political lies,

You should act free,

And you should act brave,

Until you are called,

To your grave.

Hmmmmm……….

I don’t know why,

A storm rolls in light before sound,

But I do know this,

The rain it brings,

Makes the browned ground rebound.

I don’t know why,

Black is associated with evil,

But I do know this,

Colorful things can be lethal,

And darkness can be regal.

I don’t know why,

Trees can produce paper,

But I do know this,

If we keep being takers,

We’ll regret it later.

I don’t know why,

It’s normal for heads to grow hair,

But I do know this,

I’d wear a lot more hats,

If up there were bare.

I don’t know why,

Green means go,

But I do know this,

There’s always at least one,

Determined to go too slow.

I don’t know why,

Good belongs on the road less traveled,

But I do know this,

It’s supposed to be worth it,

At the striking of the final gavel.

I don’t know why,

Pies are made round,

But I do know this,

I’ve found they’re not worth,

The extra pounds.

I don’t know why,

We let machines replace people,

But I do know this,

Progress’s side effects,

Spiral down,

And cause something else to cripple.

I don’t know why,

The movie is never as good as the book,

But I do know this,

So many will never know,

Because the book they’ve overlooked.

I don’t know why,

It’s impossible to get out of life alive,

But I do know this,

Lately it’s a wonder,

If there’s anything left,

For which to survive.

I don’t know why,

Hearts are commonly drawn in red,

But I do know this,

It makes perfect sense,

Because any time they’ve gotten hurt – they’ve bled.

I don’t know why,

Wasted time seems to fly,

But I do know this,

What you must do next,

Will force your expression to wry.

I don’t know why,

The sun doesn’t shine at night,

But I do know this,

Missing its light,

Doesn’t make the dark,

Any less of a welcome sight.

I don’t know why,

Time can’t stand still,

But I do know this,

It would be a convenience to have it at the beck and call,

Of my own free will.

I don’t know why,

Fire is hot,

But I do know this,

It makes marshmallows,

Taste as they ought.

I don’t know why,

All religions believe themselves correct,

But I do know this,

It appears they all,

Need to be fact-checked.

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.

Creepy With No Name

She saw bright red eyes,

Following her,

And knew they must be part of a body,

Covered in fur.

She would sometimes speculate,

As to whom or what they belonged to,

And she made quick to navigate,

The well-worn way,

That over the years,

Her feet had trod,

Over the sod.

So many things,

Could be the owner of such awful eyes,

And so many reasons they could have,

For using them to spy.

As far as she could tell,

She was the only one who went this way,

And so she settled on the sentiment,

That the way was haunted,

And the Thing was not,

A Thing Heaven-Sent.

For how could it be a human being,

When the eyes in its head,

Glowed such a fiery red?

And when it was out,

Only when most peoples,

Were abed?

A werewolf?

A demon?

A possessed fellow human?

Tonight,

Thoughts of what it was that lurked,

Ran rampant through her mind.

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

Dinner-time was long past,

And getting safely home,

Past that thing that roamed,

Seemed a barely attainable goal,

And even more so,

When she heard that feral growl.

Assuming it to be The Thing,

With adrenaline,

Her blood began to sing,

She was frozen in place,

Then before too long,

Something raced and filled the space,

Between it and her.

Nosediving into a boulder,

Smashing her face and shoulder,

She thought herself done,

And expected any minute,

The Thing would tear her to pieces just for fun.

She could feel it,

She could hear it,

Something sniffing around her fallen frame,

She lay all still and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was a crazy riot.

After nearly a minute passed,

She ventured to open her eyes,

And then,

She got a big surprise,

For there,

Right there in front of her,

Not more than twenty feet away,

Were the bright red glowing fiery eyes!

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

And through the immobilizing fear,

Her mind began to work again,

Why was it,

She could still feel her aggressor’s breath,

When she could swear that was he,

Right there up ahead,

And slightly to her left.

But there was not much time for theorizing,

For whatever was sniffing at her,

Was too drooling now,

Like she was steak and fries,

And the red eyes just leapt through the air,

Headed right towards her,

Oh now!

What else was going down,

In this living nightmare?

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

And so there was a wrangle,

Between the one actually evil,

And the one mysterious,

With devilish eyes,

And would you know,

She was in for a surprise!

Indeed,

An entity did reside,

On her path,

But it had defeated,

The one who had left her mistreated!

Catastrophic Controversy

Hell is here,

But don’t let that get in the way,

Of living your life today,

Put your angst aside,

And get the fuck outside.

Hell is here,

That much closer to Doomsday,

And the Man Downstairs,

Is trying to take,

An early payday.

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

You won’t find no sugar-coatings here,

I say,

Fucking relax,

Because facts are facts,

Your time is your time,

It is predetermined,

By not your brain nor mine,

If it’s meant to nab you,

You can not halt it,

And if you’re meant to survive,

At the end you will still,

Be fucking ALIVE!

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

You must realize,

It’s coughing all around us,

Now we’re coated with its germs,

So expecting the worst,

From this curse,

Everyone’s common sense,

Has become paralyzed.

Hell is here,

Stupid souls,

Let it take control,

Rather than live and let live,

Blame is thrown at others,

Who just innocently go about their business,

And long after this is done,

They won’t think it’s fun,

When their targets,

Find it fucking impossible,

To forgive.

Hell is here,

What was alright,

Has become taboo,

At least to you,

But speak to another,

And you’re told it’s no thing,

Really,

The world is about to recover.

Hell is here,

Times are dark,

Days have vibes,

Like the witching hour,

Daunting and full,

Of the Devil’s power.

Hell is here,

It’s been a long time comin’

And would you look at that now?

Many who talk a big talk,

Are frantic and running.

Hell is here,

It takes just a sneeze,

To knock a once-badass,

To their fucking knees.

Hell is here,

And that black-clad bastard,

Is trying to shine,

So let’s not let him get away with tainting,

People and places divine.

Reality

Here in the real world,

It’s too busy for Christmas,

Too busy for the Claus’s,

Mister and Missus.

Out here in the real world,

There’s money to make,

The world for us revolves around work,

And there’s no time to take,

Holiday breaks.

Here it is,

February now,

And I know it’s way past time,

But here in the real world,

I’m just now finding a minute,

To put pen to paper,

For a Christmassy rhyme.

Sugar cookies never did,

Go into the oven,

No stockings were hung,

Or carols sung,

Here in the real world,

It’s not important to build traditions,

For we are all on a mission,

That holidays don’t seem to fit in.

Seasonal frippery,

And packages full of mystery,

Under a flashy tree,

Aren’t part of the real world,

Here we barely notice,

That these things have come to be regarded,

As a great importance.

Here in the real world,

We’re generally busy,

With no spare time to prepare,

A monstrous feast,

So we gladly give a miss,

To the customary gathering,

Where anyway there is always,

Too much blabbering.

Out there in your world,

Christmas is a big priority,

And you view those over here,

As some kind of freak minority,

With kiddies to raise,

And memories to be made,

Presents must be present,

From wall to wall,

So you buy out the whole mall,

But here in the real world,

We have other things that please us,

And it’s not feasible,

To deal with such fuss.