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Do what your heart desires,
Because at the end of your life, you'll be wondering why you tried so hard to please whom you were trying to please. Fulfillment is from within your heart.
I feel like giving up today
I can't breath
The words choke me up and force me to ***** all the letters and vowels I eat making me dizzy
The grim reaper appeared at my doorstep and I'm so scared that I **** flowers and butterflies
Created long time ago. Posted today
I do believe
I do
because what would this life be
without a fairy or two?

I'll tell you,
it would be drab and dull,
but with fairies like Tinkerbell
life is full of magic

and yet
I've yet to see the fairy queen
except in
a midsummer night's dream
but does that count?
the lockdown, or are you shut out,
put out by the landlords who believe
that they are the gentry?

vacant possession,
the devil doesn't want me,
I am empty,
possessed by a vacancy.

Oh jeez, a bit gloomy for a Thursday
and not the way I imagined it to be,
but two cups of 'joe' and I'll be buzzin'
must go
and make some.
 Nov 2021
Irving MacPherson
We are what we think,             are we not what we see, 
  hanging-tight to that which is thought        to be known.
   Remember the span of time before a       Christmas when it is
     spend, spend, spent.    Now home, cooking, but not happily.
      How many, hopeless, long for the clean-up and swallow
        quick, choosing a later *******-of-the-mind
           rather than a mastication in the now.

The happy full of bliss, fooling self and others, 
  the sad grief hidden.                     Grieving a earlier time when all
    felt good only all being false memory.  Nostalgia. Vagueness,
      holding a bad hand, bluffing in dark glasses.  Chips all-in                                      

The trees that fill the Amazon toppling,     animals and humans
  scatter like roaches missing the boat.           Wishing to the last,
    to conquer the earth. Hoping to be the longest living the life
      of riley, imagining a greatness, a false feeling, a well meaning,
        fooling dream.

The motel rented, a mattress, home to blood-******* ticks,
  hitch-hiking home to invest in an I who believe to be blessed to
    travel. Who's the sucker? Who is the free-bird hanging in the air?
      God clothes in love sublime, feeding those bits of spirit eaten
        with chop sticks and plum sauce, the meal sliding down the
          Cross to be met with intestinal fortitude. (if only)
            Wits in terminal tumultuous slavery.
I am Blue, I am not so new, I am the 'egg-man', I am me, I am you
striving to come-together over what to do.       I offer to the poor
   deciding who is worthy and them do I bless with coinage or
     paper taking no receipt for taxing relief. Taking no time or
       courage to meet that one God put in my path, in my face.

No time is the right time. No time hung on the pale-blue wall.
  No time clung to the wrist. No time on the bed-side table.
    No time in the machine that queues robotically.
      Compressed time, an eternal 'now' passed over, missed.
        A sad time in want of a glad time. A bad time's visitation in a
          hallow human shell. Cold. Cold and lonely in Winter's dark.

A home-run hit clear out of Fenway Park, bouncing off the
  windshield of the car you had earlier parked. Looted life, stolen
    goods? Goods!        What good are goods if they be more weight
      that  can be carried.

Parading down the narrow street twilling a baton,
  knee action bending, a goose-stepping military follows.
    For the love of a
     God I live in, free me from this charade. Hold up that Holy day,
       when all creation lay at my feet. Dominion missed,
         an ego with a twisting, a devil in those mathematical details.
           Pressed hard in the cranium, controlling a baton, stared upon
             by shivering parents and children rushing,
               gathering candies thrown from floats
Insects who would have one day rule the world become food for
animals with a human mind and a weaken soul. Feasting. Recipe's
   abound, bugs for breakfast, bugs for lunch, Haggis eaten in dark
    Wintery five o'clock nights. Insects prepared in the most curious

Cockroaches, bedbugs and me.
with apologies to john lennon, irving
 Nov 2021
Vanessa Gatley
Pearls encrusted now
Diamond are new treasure
 Nov 2021
Irving MacPherson
A part of the blight that is the whole human-race,      I did not know what it is was I was doing:     Ignorance of the Laws of the Universe is no excuse; or is it.     Was I are born into the world pure; innocent, free. I clothe ourselves with dishonesty.        I freeze out my Creator egotistically.  Lest I be born-again,                  I do not move forward.

My apologies I lay at your feet.    Please accept my deepest regrets for the harms I have caused.         I beg your forgiveness asking for release from my war-torn ego; my plastic soul,    my unjust referee.

I long, I wish.  I pray.     I create the obstacle; the splinter,     the log.
I fight my demons when I know to ignore is to perish.       'No more
mister nice guy'  Is not for me.   I be an unholy terror to friends and family,   not to mention the strange faces  I encounter on the streets and in the marketplace.   I drift through space and time untethered.
Like an iteration of the first walk in space:   Was It?       Perhaps not.

My apologies.
sincerely, irving
 Nov 2021
Irving MacPherson
rubbing my chin
my mind takes me
takes from me

the ability
to be free
of the ego-maniacal


in some fantasy
with some self-absorbed  


rather live a dream
than be 'woke'
and un-free


tears of fire
rain down
on me

thanks to those
who came before
and to those

that even the score
 Nov 2021
Irving MacPherson
no closing the eyes
no looking to the left and right
no more no territory

yes it's clear
yes to no fear
yes to eating steer

no to the enth degree
no to uncivil society
no to not being a you and me

yes to no monopoly
yes to no decree
yes to no tom-foolery
 Nov 2021
Irving MacPherson
In the Hood where there used to be Fuzzy Dice
Now dangles a ***** mask that wasn't been washed
Since Fall of 2019, one where a couple of scrubs would suffice
The emergence of practice rounds of the Authoritarian's awash

Blessed are the peacemakers is the Christ-like cry
Stopping-up guns and ***** bombs: Here's Mud in Your Eye
So many people fed-up with the slease
So many of them angry to immense degrees

I wish this all a free hallucination that
I've have tapped into, it saves money on mushrooms
All I what is some food and shelter, my wife and my cat
Keep me fit and full while the end of this world forebodingly looms
written by a egomaniac
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