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……….

Just Some Inspiration

The entire universe,
Runs on intention,
It’s up to each individual,
Whether for you it comes through,
As faith,
Or hope,
Or magical incantation.

You must not only think it,
But actually feel it,
Believe it,
Only then can you receive it.

Reach out with your whole being,
Mind, body, and soul,
So you are fully seeing,
Whatever needs to transpire,
To make your river smoothly flow.

Through your mind’s eye,
You must create a picture,
Take it and project it,
Into the universe,
And in the name of whatever or whomever,
In which you stake your trust,
Demand that this coming to pass,
Is a fucking must.

Everything runs on energy,
But it’s not necessarily electricity,
For us humans,
When at full power,
Determination is potent,
And the reaped results show it.

You must expect,
Be thinking like it’s already here,
Or the blessing will get checked,
And your needs and hopes,
May as well,
Be written off,
Yep………. shot to hell.

Don’t ever let your will power waver,
Have staying power,
Until it’s your hour.

If you doubt it,
Rather than shout it,
Your reward,
Will never match,
What us with open minds and hearts have scored.

Godsend

A flood of peace,
Swept through my soul,
It temporarily patched the hole,
And made me feel,
Almost whole.

I was able to sleep,
More than a wink,
Like I hadn’t,
In almost a week.

**********

But let’s back up,
To when thunder struck,
And every imaginable,
Type of hurt,
Made me wish I was under,
Six feet of dirt.

There were hot spots and cold fronts,
But I must be a dunce,
For I held out hope,
That this time I may be taken,
As more than a joke.

The hot spots did not last long,
They were like maybe just the first bar,
And the cold fronts were endured,
As long as the rest of the song went on.

**********

So back now to present time,
I could not think,
There was every negative emotion,
Swirling through my head,
Like a storm out in the ocean.

I tried to calm down,
But as no definitive dreams came,
My mind continued to drown,
Then I remembered a trick,
That can solve any problem,
And the only thing needed,
Is a certain book about two inches thick.

Without a doubt,
It was time for supernatural help,
Answers weren’t coming on their own,
I’d have to conjure them alone.

So out came the giant purple volume,
And I closed my eyes,
To ask about the burden,
Eating me up inside.

I call this my magic eight ball,
And it always answers when I call,
My hands were guided to the exact needed excerpt,
And I was prompted to pay attention most especially,
To the one numbered as twenty.

Oh I don’t know why I was even surprised,
The response was just what I had surmised,
And that night I was able to close my eyes,
And sleep for the first time in ages,
Soundly until the time came to rise.

**********

Now if the patch can hold,
Until the conclusion,
At what’s bound to be,
One hell of a reunion……….

Downfalls

We’re usually blind,
To our own failures,
So if you don’t mind,
I thought to be so kind,
As to give you some hints,
That may save you from a bind.

If your weakest link,
Isn’t very strong,
You’re gonna have problems,
The rest cannot fully make up,
For what is wrong.

Maybe it’s a part of your being,
It could be someone you’re seeing,
But if you don’t cut it loose,
There’s a guarantee,
It’ll be your noose.

It’s time to take the bull,
By the horns,
Instead of keeping the wool,
Pulled over your eyes.

Who’s that person,
Toppling you over?
They’re a rusty link,
That you should rethink,
Nothing but,
A fair-weather friend,
On which none can depend.

You have a choice,
To use your voice,
Silence isn’t always golden,
It will leave you beholden,
To your own mind,
Which should be a crime.

Leaning too much,
On that tasty crutch,
Has made you feeble and fat,
And a slave to that,
It’s as easy,
As the words ‘hell no’,
But it seems you choose,
To self-abuse.

Always talking a big talk,
But seemingly unable,
To follow it up,
With walking the walk,
Whatever it is,
Causing this mental block,
Is a plastic link,
In a chain made of rock.

All of that arrogance,
You’re so full of self importance,
In the end your conceit,
Will equal defeat,
Your chain to you,
Might seem sturdy,
Too bad though,
That this trait makes it,
A tad less hardy.

Random Reflections

Things that could never happen,
Like a tree falling down,
And skinning its knees,
Or the sunrise,
Making the world appear to blacken.

Things that are a given,
Like a tropical cloudburst,
Causing flooding,
Or a vehicle gaining mileage,
Each time it’s driven.

Things that could never happen,
Like a laceration,
With blood that bleeds blue,
Or a cow dancing around,
Singing and clapping.

Things that are a given,
Like a stuffed animal,
Being full of cotton,
Or a loved one’s murderer,
Being unforgiven.

Things that could never happen,
Like an African elephant,
Squeezing through a doggie door,
Or a runaway animal stopping,
When the reins slacken.

Things that are a given,
Like Christmas decorations,
Bringing thoughts of cold and snow,
Or you pushing the door labeled out,
While trying to get in.

Things that could never happen,
Like life not changing,
As years fly by,
Or the stars rearranging,
To mend all misfortune.

Things that are a given,
Like hair growing back,
Each time it’s cut,
Or an asthma attack,
Being an actual brush with death.

Things that could never happen,
Like a fan,
Being enough in summer,
Or a marching band,
Providing good entertainment.

Things that are a given,
Like a dog,
Being the most loyal of beasts,
Or a rotten log’s,
Heat being brief.

Things that could never happen,
Like complete silence,
Bringing on deafness,
Or absolute reliance,
On a sworn enemy.

Things that are a given,
Like making it home,
Bringing a sigh of relief,
Or needing a comb,
For your morning routine.

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.

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.

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.

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.