To simplify,
To complicate,
These questions, on repeat,
In my questioning, confused head.

What do I want from this world,
Beyond simplification,
Yet a fraction of complication?
I’ll never know.

All I know, is that incarcerated birds,
still cheerfully chirp,
And nothing is ever what it seems,
Not even people.

I learned the hard way,
Achieving desires means,
Losing drive,
A sense of purpose,
And all fulfillment subsides.

Success is a state of mind,
Placement is what brings you peace,
So much to experience,
Yet so little focus.

At a certain point,
When getting old,
This contemplation follows,
And leaves me with nothing to show,
For all that I’ve experimented with—
Because staying put is too hard to bear.

at breakfast
another hotel restaurant
another choice to be made
of mediocre cooked
or bland continental
a fish bowl
of floor to ceiling
panoramic windows
people-watching
strangers passing
insignificantly through
one another's universes
parents desperate
to negotiate the morning
without a scene
suits with shirt and tie
top buttons undone
for now
retiree couples
happy in each others silence
or those lucky ones
who still find words
when alone together
or the curious
solo diners
alone and lost
in their own thoughts
or striving to hide
how they watch
those others
as they go about
their business
of goodness-knows-what
another banquet shared
unbeknownst to all
in attendance

i would love to
be able to identify
a bird from its call
or the shape of
wide-spread wings
as one flies overhead
in theory
it may seem impressive
but if i were to
successfully distinguish
a chiffchaff from
a willow warbler
based on the patterning
and colour of
its plumage
or the shape
and length of
its tail feathers
i struggle to think
of a single person
who would respond
with more than
an indifferent
mocking or
pandering "oh"

Lined up like soldiers

you stand tall and straight at attention

like them you guard humanity

by providing for us

through your shade and ever presence

sometimes in your dress of leaves

other times dormant, asleep but not

though no matter the season or the reason

whether as a heat source or inspiration

as a haven for insects or resting place for birds

the livelihood for a wood pecker or mushrooms

you’re there waiting to fulfill your destiny

Despite man’s insatiable hunger

to mow you down like blades of grass

yet it is the oxygen you provide

which allows us to live another day

the irony of it all

even for the tall

Andreas Simic©

We can be perfect. Maybe not by the imperfect standards of others. But they say nobody's perfect. They don't believe in perfection. They never watched a bird in flight, headed south. Perfect. A baby crying for food, perfect. Our consciousness can be perfect, if even for a minute. That means we can too. There are games that are impossible to be perfect at. Then there are parlor games such as pool, darts and bowling. You can be perfect at those sometimes, if you practice. The same goes with life. If we think we can't be perfect, then it is impossible. If we aspire to think perfect thoughts, then those thoughts aspire forever. Forever. I fail all the time, but it is my own fault, because I try things that are said to be impossible. Why not?

I looked up
and saw the meteors
in my daddies eyes
fiery dreams
that had been held up
by a wish and a prayer
I saw his disappointment
that the show ended too soon
but perhaps one day
there'll be a time
for us to shoot the moon

Aspiration? A tricky call.
I’m more than willing to give you a leg up,
but I can’t define where you’ll climb,
or I’ll be the *** who assumes

your *** might become an astronaut,
an assassin for hire,
or just gain enough cash to survive,
or be proudly working class,
or to clash with the establishment
and bring them crashing down
your *** might want to work
hard and fast
or be happy to rock up comfortably last
the amount of possibilities are vast
and equally valid and yours

I’ll lend a mind, some thoughts, some words to help
but for each self to realise themselves,
I’ll not assume,
we know what that would make us

"YOU ARE MY DREAM"

It doesn't matter how long it took
before we
met each
other. What
matter most
was how well
we'd ever
stay together
longer. On
our journey
of trust,
honesty fuels the motion. Loving
you is a
mission with commitment
to bringing us
to a rightful
destination.
Baby you're my aspiration, my
dream in
whom lies
my whole vision.
#C9_fm

I'll lay on my bed to dream again
Of that faraway land beyond
Where many say promises lay
I'll sleep to dream again

To what depth will I have to sleep
And dream again of the wondrous land
And to what height do I ascend
To behold your glorious deep

Oh you faraway land in keep
In my dream you are no more
To my reality I return, no more of you
A figment of thoughts, a dream in dream