On the highest peaks or the lowest darkest depths
In health and strength or broken, weak and nearly dead
In the midst of love and joy or rejected, exiled and unknown
In fullness of knowledge and assurance of the good will
Or bewildered and baffled, in perplexity stumbling and lost
With songs constantly singing, resplendent in angelic aura
Or utterly silent, crying beyond tears, covered in ashes of mourning
At the table, listened to and honoured by kings and princes
Or a starving slave forgotten and chained in the dank dungeon
But unseen in the flesh, unknowable unless heard,
is the Word, "I am with you," and that suffices for Life.

Wishes, I never said...?
Rolling tongues, admit appearances
Are deceiving, but purpose to lead...
Has an ear for a rainbow's chances

Rainbows lead to pouting voices...
Facing the stare, I make a quiet
Collective memory served; has choices...
The reagent of a house of colors, so bright

Star's that starve?
As the moment indicates...
Your rhyme for the silent, is another's liar...
Privilege behind a scare, finishes the irate

Races of fate, found in a valued youth...
Respite is to be, an awkward challenge
Of a time, that accuses you for couth...
Curses of final fear, are often to nearer mention

The fright in the rain
Told to sit, by a silver voice...
Sigh's and minding, the candor of pain
Will such a song, begin here with loyalty?

Does and doesn't...
Shame wear a passion's decision?
Deciding upon, a notorious lesson won't
Is a handful of salt, the only shared intuition?

Liberty, at all costs...
And a hill named only rage
That worth's the world, with hosts
Sent to a wish, I made...

Time be a liar's friend...
One step more
Like love and hates marvel, to lend...
The story of reach, is who's war?

Like-wise, bitten?
By love, to know a caring
Sojourn to little more, than a fitting
Response, to an eye out and sharing...

King's savior?
And the heat of irony to a new rule of came, desire
Welcomed staring else's, to a wish in a beauty, dour...
The reasons of courage and it's season, should be no denial

King's passion?
Long in truth's to defy a giving hour, subtle stilled
Is a many frustrated act, with poise to ask heed in kind?
Is a wish come by a strength unknown, the prayer of hell?

King's heaven?
Totaled by the court of decision, as a world goes by
Living the point, and realizing a marriage is god given...
Will we keep the obvious, or is oblivion the other side of this lie?

King's conscience?
Avid in roles and its herald, future coping
Has the remembered today, and peace, for when patience
Is but a stoney gift to liberty, to refuse a silence is hoping...?

Asking's decision?
Wealth of deeds reach, is in the embrace of sigh's, significance...
Worthiest in a days means, the name of solace and timid intuition
The pale trust of each other, earning the doles and shared justice, we named living chances...

I watched King Charles’ coronation this morning.
I’m not British and some things confused me.
For instance, they kept saying “The new king.”
New? The guy’s a boomer - at least - right?

Apparently, he is, at once, the oldest king
ever and the newest king yet.

Can we talk about the old lady with the crown?
The wrinkled one on the right of him, in white,
the crypt keeper, with genuine platinum hair.
At first, I thought that it was Charles’ mother.

But apparently, the old Queen died.
Has anyone looked into that?
Anyone who’s read Shakespeare knows
how brutal royals can be and successions,
over time, have earned a sketchy reputation.

Anyway, I wish him well. I wouldn’t want to live a life
where everyone around me moves up a notch
if something sudden and nasty happened to me.

The Coronation is
A
Royal
Pain
In
The
Cosmopolitan
****;
The crowning achievement
of
Royal Navel Gazing.
Chuck it (them) all.

Hope here is dead. Man in a box, Cobain in my head.
Court me some love and spin on my throne,
Of brittle remorse.

Sick in the womb, the silver spoon pollutes.
Tiny tadpole in the pool, grows to patrol the Black Lagoon.
Devouring the newt it once knew.

Fearful men, conceal their worries, in tall tales of courage.
Ironclad, Iconoclast. Kings and heroes alike,
Plant their flags in fields of ash.

He wanted to be accepted
By those he had rejected
Thought the poppers would feel blessed
If allowed just one day of rest
Thought they'd savor the King's scraps
Even if it meant scrounging around like rats
Thought they'd never dare complain
For even one day of his reign
Wasn't the King surprised
To see the commoners got wise
They stormed the castle through
And found him hiding in a shoe
Everyone laughed, what a tiny little thing!
Who knew you'd have to be a mouse to be bigger than the King