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After days of hot sun, down came the rain,
It watered the garden, and flowed down the drain.
In less than five hours, the month’s quota met,
The news had reported, a record was set.

The drink was welcomed, by the parched earth,
Ending the dry spell, experienced by Perth.
But soon people complained, about getting wet,
They wanted the sun, how soon they forget.

We’re never satisfied, with what we get,
It’s too hot or too cold, too dry or too wet.
We want 24 degrees, with sky that is blue,
And rain for an hour, in the morning at two.

We should be grateful, for the sun and the rain,
Make the most out of it all, and do not complain.
when things do happen, which we can’t control,
Leave it in his hands, it’s part of his goal.

Bill Hoeneveld. 4/26/2016.
If people were colors, he'd be gold
A shimmering metal so bright and bold
Much brighter than the jewelry sold
The luster increases each day tenfold

If people were colors, she would be gray
Like a cold morning or a cloudy day
And if she were to see him today
She'd fade all of his brightness away
I think that's just fine.
because the length from
chin to jugular vein,
makes me blush like a schoolgirl
in shame.

Thing is, is not fair.
cause my hand'll never touch there.
following from the tips of my fingers.
A deep longing, lingers.

A jawline I fell for.
As soft and sharp as you.
But looking in the mirror,
i'm getting the hint of
one too.
The little things, i may love no less
but for me
your jawline's the best.
I’m going to be okay.
I can feel energy
Surging through my fingertips
Your words pour over me
Like a beautiful thunderstorm
Every touch a crack of lightning
Followed by the low rumble of your wandering hands
Enveloped in a sensation too beautiful to describe
I screamed at the top of my lungs
And you screamed, too
Dancing in the rain we created
Crumbling under the hail.

I can feel my heart sink.
The low hum of my piano keys
Setting the mood for a heartfelt ballad
Yet I am alone.
The ringing is all I hear at night
All I hear when they say your name
My fingers ache from playing the same song
But god, I miss the melody dearly.
What were the notes again?
When an electronic glitches,
just stops working.
We
Can
Refresh
The
page.
I wish I could
refresh
my life
I wish things could just start to
work
when things go down.
I wish when things just don't go the way they are intended to go,
refresh
I wish I could make everything
Go the way I want them to
Got a bad grade
refresh
Had a breakup
refresh
I wish I could refresh my life.
As children we seem to skim across surfaces
Of our days’ tranquil lakes

Like the basilisk running on hind legs
Out-pacing our (lesser than Jesus) predators

Impossibly drowning them in the wake
Of that chase, as we are learning to shield ourselves

By striking first, so as not to feel
that blow of life’s cruel anger and exhaust...

We know how to wade the weeping
Wreckages of our mistakes & missed opportunities;

Mistook with misunderstanding’s book:
"An Idiot’s Guide to the Malady of Mishaps / Moroseness."

As adults we grow the necessary gills
To breathe our own tears' folkloric oceans seeming

Vast as Mithra’s museums of mummified cries,
Drowned moments we silenced inner deep blues' / sky.

We are Merfolk,
Watching here our ebbing tides

How once we had legs like ballerinas, swift & light
Like our worries to aging blight

Stymied timely introduction to Triton nights….
Deftly anticipating the arrival of hindsight’s

Deepest fight to catch the rye and nimble child
Above us now, while we watch them -- Kites

Of memories as in our far away / freedoms
On the surface of our wars' tear filled lakes

Losing our inner / liquid flight…
From youthful wings to fins, and wordless sting

Learning to sink, swim, and breathe
Again-- Life :
                       our unheard Ariel under the sea…

We are Merfolk of dreams oceanic kisses
Voiceless we will lack magic to raise our wishes

We learn to sing in seaweed with
Music of happenstance and waves of need

We are similar to those lost depths
Inequalities and struggles all abyssal deep.

So together as Merfolk must quiet that  loud sea
Loss & histories of mountains / memory

Nautiluses drowning in love’s diminishing poetry,
We are merfolk, submariners toward mystery...
Appetites belie intelligence
Heat the quantum furnace
Furious bellows
Enduring the excitement
Behold...!

Can you not hear the rumble brewing?

Butchers trained
To spin the looms
Tailors primed
To know a good cut when they see one

Everybody washes their hands
We have a guest!

Creator?
How are you this fine evening?

--

Denizens imbibe libations
Chase the dreams of spirits
Curious followers
Beckoning the light
Beware...!

Can you not see the trouble stewing?

Mountains flow
As rivers erupt
Legs give in
As arms are taken out
Secretly
Demanding of You:

When will our time come?

Creator?
Will you let us know?

--

Is there nothing?
We hope not
Is there something?
If so...

Be gone, idle fraud!

Blinded by entropy's darkening gaze
Atrophied in futility of wealth
Staking a claim on the horrors of Nature
To process
To cycle
Unmercifully
Spent

Creator?
Are you there?
We pray you order our chaos, but

Once we know what You know
What will there be left to say?



© Michal Czechak 2016
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