I gotta ask

myself, am I mad, or is this that day, again,
did we make a plan to finish something again,
and not do it, again?

I do believe, we have settled that both ignore and
believe are verbs in a modality, meaning

if you do not do it, yourself, it does not get done,
I believe ignorance is an active state, sold as faith,
evidenced by things unseen,
substantially manifested
in the peace you hoped
to find, being yours
to make up, in your mind,

and let it drift into reality, as we breathe our
insides out,

there could be a word for that.

Too bad, he only

does his duty, I would like --


him to be a saint.

Reluctance wants to

be alone, unobserved not --


doing what you want.

Peace & love
And safety, security.


The art of war,
Is the portrait of justice-
The picture of peace.
The liberty to live free,
As we choose and want to be:
But the duty to defend what we believe.

Spoilt from birth,
Pampered and needy,
Being the spare an inherited curse,
Leading to actions often quite seedy.

Great aunt Margaret blazing the trail
Questionable choices aplenty,
Drugs and alcohol steering her sail
A life of regrets, vacuous and empty.

Followed by Andrew possessing of valor
But aimless and vain in every respect,
His choices a mess, cause of great clamor,
So by way of example what to expect?

As to his mother, that heart-shearing tale,
The lovely Diana Princess of Tears,
A tragic figure determined yet frail,
The ultimate victim to her own inner fears.

But a glass half empty is a mindset of sorts,
Blindly ungrateful to privileges bestowed,
Clouding his mind with nothing but torts,
Leading the spiral down a winding dark road.

We the onlookers can only but hope
That time and experience will yet prove the key,
Shielding his fall from that slippery *****,
Grasping the change which for now he can't see.

Tired...
My eyes burn,
My lungs ache...
The sun wakes me
Through the
Windows.

Dress myself
Wash my face,
It's time to endure
Another day...

Another rush
At the restaurant,
Put on a smile,
And pretend it's
Okay...

But I can't do this
For much longer,
My longest day
Is Sunday...

Sing a song to entertain,
as we sit around a little fire.

We are small, our fire smaller,
so we think we know,
we trust our science,
as taught,
were we, to test a known,
religiously, to prove,
all things.

At once, we think, if it were me,
alone, thinking we may, we might
disintegrate as fuel in fire,
becoming beings we are,
under your skin,
in your sense of wedom,
happening in ever for ever's own sake.

May she mark her moments of miracles. For it won't be but momentarily she'll soon forget such wonderous moments and she'll be buried in her daily duties, dilly dallying dutifully till the deathbed does she dwell on such matters again to sit in such shame sorrowfully understanding the passing of her muliebrity.