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Somewhere in the darkness of morning
Or in the evening just before noon
Lies the dawning of midnight
Throughout the sleep of afternoon

Mixed emotions hidden by daylight
Darkness empties the room
Dinner comes to me at daybreak
The sun shines on the moon

Feelings captured in emotion
Care little about the time
With a handhold on tomorrow
The future was yesterday

Can you see that forever
Is just a daybreak away
Life isn’t about tomorrow
And not about yesterday

In the darkness of morning
The moon shines at noon
Stars beckoning the evening
To come on too soon

Life cannot be about tomorrow
And cannot be about yesterday
Life has to be about the present
This thing called - today
Trying to express that the past is a mix of jumbled up memories and that any expectation of future events is nothing more than expecting those jumbled up memories to repeat themselves. All we really experience is this odd unending thing called the present. If we can grasp the truth in that we could begin to make not only the present more enjoyable but also make the past more pleasant to relive and the future less unknown.
  May 2017 Willy Shakysphere
NaNi
I missed death by a split second
my hands had no time to sweat
heart no time to race
no goodbyes would have been said
my legs began shaking uncontrollably
I fell to my knees thanking God for his mercy because i almost didn't get a chance to meet him
My heart beats intermittently in this mad, mad world,
The pain of it makes it shutter so.
And as it quivers I would have you know
That many well minded people proclaim to defend
The madness hidden here within
Their deafening fog and their blinding snow.

Here where Tully stands
Amidst Horace and Homer’s hands,
And Plato watches as they go
So many years far below.
I was once with them an unlettered lad
Buried somehow now inside their fog and snow.

Is it possible to jinx this madness?
Attack the demons and spill their decadence?
Newspapers daily attacks on the sane
With words like hammers again and again.
Making a false museum out of this insanity’s row.
Falling all around within the cold fog of snow.

Are the insane the real artists?
The vandals the restorers?
The bombs - the ballast?
The lies – the words the authors’
Use to make this world less to know.
Sprinkling mysery about in the fog and snow.

Your own thoughts float down to the place where you are
Watching as another lie falls so far.
You watch it fly out the door into the misty night,
Sailing away to the dark tenements of right.
Wishing it to stay where the art is black and without a glow,
Burying yourself in the fog and snow.

Let sanity swing open in the cages of your heart
Like an eagle soaring with wings held wide apart.
Looking down with an illuminated eye.
Floating high above this mad quasi
Thinkers of thought, squelching out a reply.
No question lost in this worldly fresco -
Lost no more in the fog and snow.
For what it's worth this is my attempt to deal with the craziness that I see in the world everyday.
Sweet pliability of a woman’s spirit
That can surrender itself to its own illusions
Somehow to cheat sorrow of their weariest moments.
Had I not trod upon such enchanted ground
I would have not known the smooth velvet path
Fancied by those rose-budded petals of delight.

When the evils of the world wear sores upon me
And there seems to be no retreat from them –
I take upon me 'your' course and leave this world
Of fit and anger and find that it is only with 'you'
That I have a clearer view of the Elysian Fields
Upon which your womanly heart depends.

I see those evils wave their ugly heads in defeat
Even unto their own thoughts as you cast out the shadows.
I lose myself in you all those ill wills finding
That it is only your affections worth living for.
Surely this is not walking in a vain shadow
Nor do I do injustice to you by walking with you.

A man walks in any direction because he claims to
Walk with the issue of his commotions – for no good reason.
But in woman, at times, she walks in the direction of her
Heart as she conquers any single bad sensation of
That heart as decisively as that of reason - often sorely
Defeated before there is a fight to be fought.

They say that a woman thinks more with the left side
Of her brain while a man thinks mostly with the right.
The journey between right and left is but a few centimeters.
That distance between those quadrants can at times seem
Light years apart as if the universe is turned topsy-turvy.
Neither is more intelligent than the other, or so they say but

Science also says

Men tend to do better with tasks requiring more localized processing
Such as mathematics which is attributed to the white matter of the brain.
Women are better at integrating and assimilating information from the
Distributed gray-matter regions of the brain, which aids
In language and communication skills.
This is a generalization and is not true of all men and women.

So how is a man to ever understand a woman or a
Woman ever to be able to understand a man?
I can only attest to my own case.
If a man subscribes himself upon such an injury
That he incapacitates that masculine routing of reason
Then his mind is forced to regenerate itself creating different
Avenues of his ability to be human.

If by accident or injury he somehow disables some of the
White matter of his brain then over time the gray matter
Takes over what the white matter no longer can perform.
In essence there isn’t a left and a right anymore.
When that happens a man is open to communication
In an entirely new and different way.

What once was a bullheaded ***** thinking mainly with
Parts of himself that were more important to him than anyone else,
Now he is forced to see both sides of every issue.
Words are not the same, music isn’t the same and
Neither is anything else, not even a single breath.
So whenever you read something from one of these mutant men –

Remember what has happened to get this one to that place.

And remember always, hope shortens all journeys
By sweetening them, so sing my little stanzas
As I sing them – as with the devotion of a hymn.
If you do this every morning you will arise
And eat your breakfast with more comfort for it.
Make no mistake of it – I am a man in every way
That a man can be a man.

It’s just according to science that
I think more like a woman.
For better or worse and
Whether anyone likes it or not.
Personally I think I'm somewhere in between.
Play on the difference between the sexes

— The End —