Poetic minds are islands often found
In common reaches of the status quo
And in remote and deeper waters
Of vox humana in muted undertow.

Fathers don't always show their feelings, they're not

As demonstrative and warm as most mothers are...yet,

Their love goes silently beyond immeasurable...it's admirable

How they hold their weak moments, without a tear falling...they're

Esteemed...admired...like a statesman of enduring greatness

Rapidly, silently perceiving the needs of their children, their family......always

S-elfless! To fathers, family is a priority!

::::::

He is made of  concrete,
******...always replete
with pebbles of love...and warmth
yet, soft as satin...in his home, he is the hearth,
the wall...his family...the fire burning in his heart:::



Sally

Copyright June 17, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I hang around with love
you know the everlasting kind

some of it is bound to rub off
that's a hermit hope.

Not My President.
But he is. Let him live.
He and his minions
Are like the poor;
They will always be with us.
But north of you,
We have a Queen.
#Not My Royal Family.
They're needy and expensive,
Spoiled and enfranchised.
An extended, big family
Who gets free rides at Canada's Wonderland,
Best seats at hockey games... all games
For Lieutenants-Governor,
Governors-General,
And all the wee princesses and princes.
Rideau Hall is the official residence
The White House pales beside,
Sussex Drive fades beside its oppulence.
Celebrities and histories have planted trees there.
Jack, Marilyn, Nelson, Martin and all the heavenly host
Have approached those gilded doors,
Pretending to bow and curtsy to an absent Queen.
Back to #Not My Royal Family.
I didn't get a vote.

The Compliment Disaster
Has left us in a daze.
A kindness comes a monster
And'll only lose us face.

Not one of greatest poets
Has stemmed from nonsense such
Who clouds their skills to write it—
The words that comes out ****!

The feet of time
trudge on
on infinity’s dime.

Beneath its nimble steps
the cement sidewalk crumbles.

Time liberates
the land,
freeing it from
the bonds
we placed upon
its muddy back,
erasing imagined borders.

States crumble.
Nations deteriorate.
Man’s footprint
will eventually be erased.

Except for climate change.

A Gang of Guns was walking down the street
Looking for trouble, Someone to defeat.
The Guns saw a man who looked very loaded.  
One Gun shot him in the head. He was goaded.

"Please don't shoot me Gun. " the man had pleaded.
"I have a wife and kids. I am needed!"
"Dude" said the Gun when he found no money.
"You are a real loser. Ain't it funny?"

Got to get the Guns off the street.
Too many people dying, blown off their feet.

Note.  
2016— 781 killed
2017— 664 killed
2018 —555 killed.  CPD
2019 -- 498 killed
2020 -- 772 killed
2021 -- 797 killed
2022 -- 695 killed
2023 --

Those who pull the triggers.
Need an appointment with the diggers.

Demons to so many are simply Metaphors
Symbols of our darker side.
A rational mind may discern What is real
Even with spectres seen and Voices heard.

Seemingly real what our senses Feel
We can swear that we heard a Disembodied voice
Or saw a ghost or spirit.
But they may be an illusion--
Our eyes and ears do play
Tricks on our minds
Like hysterical blindness being All in the head.

As in dreams by night
Perhaps these things
Are conscious dreams by day--
Our minds trying to tell us Something
In its own symbolic and abstract Way.
Just as real as physical symptoms
Deeply rooted in the mind.

It has been said that your Perception is your reality.
If so, these things are then your Personal reality.
These things may be real
But only to you
Or whoever is in your headspace
Or our collective headspace
Where our senses peak.

Your reality or your orientation Is defined
By what you focus on
And what you look through
Day after day.
You truly are what you eat.

Are the negative effects of what You see
Compounded by further Distorted perception?

Are you focusing on something through

     <A spider-web-cracked
           Window?
     <A spider’s web built across
           Your Window?
     <A fogged-up or frosted
           Window?
     <A coloured or tinted
           Window?
     <A *****  smudged window?
     <A window partially or
           Totally obscured
           By bushes or trees?        
     <A window at night where
           What you
            See beyond the window

            Is superimposed with
            Your own reflection and
            That of objects and lights
            That are behind you in
            The room?
     <A window with the blinds
           Closed?
                             Or
     <Are you myopically looking
           Through what is just
           A picture of a window
           Hanging on
                               Your wall?  
                      ~
Whatever windows we peer Through
Or whenever we enter
Humankind’s collective and Connected
Head-space
We see and hear these demons And spectres
Dancing through the dark empty Rooms
And hallways of mind

Waiting for the right time
To bring the party to the light of Day
Where they will forever stay
Since we have been inviting Them
And have been preparing the Way for them
For a very
Long time.