Some fools are born, conditioned by fate,
And they, like all, still procreate.
All useful knowledge flees their minds,
As selfish life fulfills these swines.
And while they swing and cheat for joys,
The watchful eyes of their little boys
Do take a look at what they see,
And what they see is “A bigger me.”
Their little girls, in company of dolls,
On occasion, foresee what befalls
Upon them, too, as they soon explore,
An impending battle of love and war.
But then, there exists that little kid,
Whose sex and gender shall remain amid
A cloud of irrelevance and mystery:
Their wisdom calls most urgently.
As this kid sees a life unravel
Along Lacanian stages of travel,
Concerned are they with the fuss and mess,
Which most adults do not confess
To what they cause and what they bring,
Most taken in by their offspring;
And as one parent lacks all the care,
The other lives a life unfair.
In times of chaos and audacious cuss,
Dear vengeful killer, Oedipus,
Consumes all facets of the mind
Of the little kid who must confine
All pain, and hatred, and all rage,
Enough to place one in a cage,
And leave one there to squirm and rot,
Like a lobster boiling in a pot,
And free the bird whose wings to fly
Have been broken off, now left to die,
In part, by diabolical norms
That invade a home in all shapes and forms.
But the kid looks up at the two,
Then whispers quietly, “I’m neither of you;
Not the blinded one, who feels must reign;
Nor the obliged one, too tied to pain."
Nor does the kid ever dare to be
A product passed politically:
Ingrained in mind, in heart, and soul
A subordinate being in a bowl,
That turns, and turns, and turns, and turns
While greedy capitalists more they yearn.
Within this cycle is little choice,
Hetero-normatively sans a screaming voice,
For a true language for some not made;
Virile chest-pounds place a shade
Upon the stronger ones deprived
Appraisal for their stronger minds.
The kid, all this, can’t take to be,
As what they see they wish not to see.
In this unbalanced Yin and Yang,
The kid’s perception hits a bang:
“The power lies within the one,
Who mostly governs with a gun;
And how can a human hurt their double,
When love and passion are lesser trouble?"
A fitting sex the kid can't choose,
As in every win, each sex does lose.
But slowly, as they come to be,
The kid, society directs to see,
That to just one sex they must belong,
As genitalia proves feelings wrong.
This funny theory most credits Freud;
By collective viewpoints the kid’s annoyed:
'No good is said, no good is done',
For those who are all, but yet are none.
Great gender points makes Butler de Judith
While her female likes are out to proveth,
That she is wrong within her stance
‘Only female unity will give rise to chance'
To an inclusion of the female word,
And one that’s First, not Second or Third.
The opposite, still out to bend
The rules and laws, all to pretend
That the other sex does not exist
Because swollen egos must persist
In rule, in art, in build, and biz:
'Fields where opposites lack all wiz.'
The kid, in this silly world of theirs,
Looks at all the foolish heirs
Who bounce and shoot this gendered ball,
While the kid stands back and laughs at all.
Girl, when we lay together by the fire
We feel each others touch very deeply
Our comfort for one another
Takes our breath away completely
The joys of us caring for one another
Chases those dark clouds away
We brighten each others world
Each and every day
Too many front row seats at funerals
Too many tears shed over bodies
Too many cold hands help in hopes to feel warmth
Too many goodbyes that can't be helped.
It's a sad day when there are too many
When siblings realize
And kin begin to visualize
A day without their mother
A day without their brother
Too many, I say
Too many sorrow and not enough joys
It seems, these days are numbered
Numbered and riddled with sadness
With the occasional laugh and smile
It seems, at least these days...
There are too many.
Night, the oldest of mysteries
settles, spreading like hunger.
A pall of mist
shrouding over the world.
Siren sounds and firefighters,
drunken brawls, and
Eyes of wonder asleep,
emerging out of
the network of shadows
Stray nuggets of light
also reach the eyes shut
Furtive shadows of passion,
elsewhere. Muffled joys;
Shades of bottle-grey.
faint. Raspy owl-calls,
In the deep, secret
rites of initiation.
Somewhere in the far
the stars and
the broken moon peep in.
Old song on a highway truck.
Little lamps adorning the hills,
courtyards in the distance.
Still developing this piece, more abstractions needed...
Light is out why you toss on the bed
is there a poem storming your head?
is it some ache gnawing at your heart
bubbles of thoughts are breaking for a start?
How the night passes hours you don't keep
eyes forget closing shut tight in sleep
with tears and joys you bring the newborn
hold them close so they live to see the morn.
At the nightly hunt eyes glow like hawk
preying on words defying the restive clock
your mind runs roaring maneuvers your hand
turbulent oceans, the sky and the land.
You move beyond boundaries, cities and towns
reaching up the mountains digging deep down
sailing with the drift when an oasis you find
you let the night go, blank goes your mind.
her magical mind
sets sparkles to wing
and the hard words are softened
in their respective faces by the touch
of her silken favours
as she weaves me through
her ideals with craftsmen's knowledgeable hand
adept at the use of her wares
but even knowing this
i cave in
because within my own
demon of futility sitting on his
pile of rust manufacturing great and small
mouse traps of the mind
throws me into the confusions
of trying to recapture that heady love affair
that torrid romance so filled
with such fulfilling joys i thought it could never end
but it did
and now my heart has revealed that
it has secretly grieved for the loss of her
delicate body next to mine
that my fool heart has wept for the loss
of her looking up into my eyes
and sweetly softly whispering i love you
her magical mind has won again
and we make love
i am enraptured of her beautiful details
of her in notion of her in concept
of her in every way conceived
as she breezes in
on her comfortable conversation
fascinated by all the aspects
of her faster beautys
her velvet smile
cannot be dimminshed
it gives a soul warmth
that is deeper than
it breaths me
and when shes exhales me
i am sated
with wine and roses
you won my heart
the years went by
with its ups and downs
reality of love and life
and daily strife
how thru it all
you stood tall
and I gave you
every part of me
with no regrets
Many times I just need to stop what I am doing and listen... listen to what the "still small voice" is trying to tell me.
Taking time to smell the lilacs, so to speak, to soak in the beauty around us, to reflect that God really is God and not a figment of our imagination, is what life should be about. Turning off the things that interrupt our mind (tv/radio/neighbor/spouse ;-)), etc) and listening and seeing the simple joys in life, gives me peace for today and hope that tomorrow will be even better.
My joy these days is in a 24 pound little boy who entered this world 13+ months ago not under the best of circumstance but loved just the same. I would not trade him for all the money in the world. He is the light of my life. When I come home very tired, it would be easy to do what I want... rest, but the look on his little face when I come into the room somehow sparks a little more energy to pick him up. He lays his head on my shoulder, gives a sigh, and all is well with the world.
In the spring time, gardens are planted and begin to grow. For him, (my grandson) his mind is like a garden. The seeds planted in his early life, the time taken to talk and play with him, watered with love and compassion, will grow and develop and hopefully the beauty of his garden will crowd out the weed seeds that the winds of world blow in from time to time. Love always triumphs over hate if you never give up. I know many kids never had a chance at an early age to grow and bloom into a beautiful garden. Years later, weed killer (God) was applied, the soil tilled by His hand, revealed the potential of their garden. The gardens they grow are beautiful in the eyes of our Lord and Savior. When someones garden is getting a little dry, we need to help water their garden with love, compassion and understanding from our abundance. Small things that don't cost much but have a big impact on the growing beauty of a garden. Is there any better way to spend our time than to nurture a growing garden? I think not. I may not live to see my grandson's garden bloom and produce great things as he becomes a man but I know God will honor the planting and watering I do beyond the day He takes me home.
Oh the joys of being positive
After enduring all your negative
The drama you created was stressful
Should've been an actor you'd be successful
Time for me to give you an earful
Because I'm no longer tearful
My enjoyment will be to watch you fail
Your new love now has a dominant male
No one's opinion is ever correct
You drive you're own point in every argument
If she is submissive you'll both get along
You overpower women that tend to be strong
You've moved her out and you moved her in
I see that you're starting all over again
It's hard to watch from across the street
To watch you start failing is a real treat
Your endless routine has become so clear
Destroyer of hearts has become your career
Everytime I see you-
I feel a sharp pang surge through my body,
I feel my heart hit over-drive and I break out in a nervous sweat.
It's a pity you don't see me too.
Everytime I talk to you -
I feel my tongue twisting into an uncomprehensible jabber,
I feel my mind begin to yabber; my legs they seem to stagger.
It's a pity your don't talk to me too.
Everytime I think of you -
I feel my whole body melt in awe
I feel warmth straight down to my core and I can't ever stop...
It's a pity you don't think of me too.
I wish I was as invisible as you make me out to be, because then, maybe then I won't see you, I won't talk to you, I won't think of you...and then, only then I'll know for sure -
that you won't think of me too.
Feeling so strongly about someone who won't ever feel the same way...is destroying me, it's killing me...it's pushing me away from all the joys of life, the beauty and kindness...
It's turned me into something ugly, something I'm not.
It's a pity I ever saw you, it's a pity I even talk....it's my heart's own silly fault I guess, to think I even had a chance.
With you, the perfect friend and lover, I should never have given a second glance.