In The End

       Well there’s two sides to every coin
And there’s two sides to every story
And in every game there’s defeat
And then there’s obviously glory

There’s riches in currency and
There’s riches in Silver and Gold
There’s a life of youth and there’s
A life you spend when you’re old

There’s sparkling shining jewelry
Beautiful Necklaces and rings
There’s a plethora of worldly possessions
So many meaningless material things

Some might say that it brings true
Happiness but it’s just fake
But you believe what you wish and
By all means get all you can take

But life is temporary and so is everything
In it and that’s the truth my friend
You can’t take it with you and there’s
Only Heaven or Hell In The End

Written By:Charles Kean
02/15/2024

The Joker believes
If you are good at something
Never do it for free

Sometimes I think I'm pretty good
Sometimes a joke
But I write these poems for free

                     Come See.

I found the moon
on a bed of flowers
With his beams
cast in white
In a moonlit garden
that gleamed in silver
On a clear and cloudless
starry night

No reds stood proud
no tangerines
No purples
in royal sheen
Quiet greys
and blooms of whites
tossed back
his ivory light

I found comfort
peace and calm
In darkness
that lent her charm
The greens warmed
by a streaming stole
And beauty
that heals the soul

Each day is lit
by the flaming sun
Yet such loveliness
when the night returns
And what mysticism
and mysteries
In darkness, these eyes can see

A little poem stirs me awake
in the morning, before the alarm goes off.
It follows me around as I brush my teeth -
dashing left and then right, pecking
continuously at my unkempt scalp

In the afternoon it is the shadow
that sweeps the dusty street behind me,
imitating my short heavy steps
pretending to be on its own journey

I nudge it gently away as I enter the office
but it is the words floating from my boss' mouth,
the hot tea warming my assistant's cup
the glass windows as they swing back and forth,
and the tiny drops of water that magically
turn to air as soon as the cleaner's mop leaves the floor

In the evening when I sit to read a book
it ghosts ahead of my eyes,
stooping after every few words
to put the next into a plastic bin,
transforming the page
into a crossword puzzle

Until finally I throw up my arms
shuffle to the overpopulated table
and begin to unravel the message
sent from the neural galaxy
that was awake when the rest of me died

The under shell of
the tortoise looked
like a sunset.
Blasts of color:
orange, maroon, burnt sienna.
I caught them in
the garden at
sunrise, eating a
tomato or chewing into
a head of lettuce.
They always looked so
serious.

I was just a
sunburnt boy, with
cutoff jeans and a
straw hat.
I caught toads too.
But when they peed on me,
I let them go.
I loved that land.
Ponds and streams,
fishing and climbing trees.
oh,
sweet, green
youth.