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pocket full of pennies
rolling across the kitchen floor,
down the steps, out the door,

pennies running into the street
(and i'm right behind them.)

"where do you think you are going? and
I m feeling a bit embassed, so i whispered.
"you belong to me,

to keep or to throw away." and

there s a light tap on my shoulder,
and the policeman tells me,

"better find them soon
before they turn to rust,

I couldn't find mine
and I'm sure they turned into dust."

and the echoe from the hole
in my pocket shouts,
" his dreams are
trying to find the waterline."

i did find a few of them, a handful,
(I had swiped my hand as they tried to roll away)

I did grasp a few

but some of the other
pennies i threw into the air
where they may have fallen,
I know not where.
 Nov 13 CJ Sutherland
Pax
Joker
 Nov 13 CJ Sutherland
Pax
I am never
the comedian,
But I am
the joke.
When I was growing-up, I was different, in a way i speak, walk or talk. Yet physically i was just a normal boy growing up knowing nothing on how the society works. I was confident to what i like and don't like, then been bullied  or humilated by doing it, because it was not the norms for a typical boy. Then I became fed up with it, that in my teenages years i learned to be alone and be alone, trying to fix something that didn't need fixing. Life goes on in my teenage year, still being bullied until in my collage years that i learned which to ignore and to which to defend. In result to all this i became a loner, choosing wisely when to socialize when needed to or else i rather be alone. That is why also i never care finding someone anymore, i find comfort in my own space.  Being Old alone is not such a bad thing anymore, we all go there in some point in time.

To conclude my personal journey, I guess being bullied physically or emotionally has/have a long time effect. It will scar you, but it will never defined you, you'll get strong as you understand the viewpoint in perspective, life gets better when you know how to live a good life.
I can't reopen this letter
covered with the dust of time
among my hundreds of old books-
reading it would only make me sadder-

the rose that's withered
can't be remade anew
each flight of the bird
can't be repeated as it flew-

how I wished I were kinder
ready to spare and forgive
despite my every effort
I couldn't in my bitter grief-

now a desolate old man
my lonely tears offer no relief-
life and time wait for none
once fled-  lost is every living gift.
Time closes in mindlessly
but my heart isn't oppressed
its powers I scoff vehemently
in my self-sufficiency I rest--

though there's thick mist in the horizon
my path I'll boldly chart
adversity shall not hold me in prison
from fervent faith I'll not part-

life is the lacuna
and the indifference
it offers no anchor
in its nonchalance -

its sea might be stormy and rough
and my sailing might be perilously tough
but my courage will be enough
to lead me to the faraway shore that I've desired
 Nov 13 CJ Sutherland
Pax
You smelled the roses
used them till Withered
and toss aside
for a new one
All you did was
temporary love.

You like new,
Young and
Shiny
But then again
You get bored
And opt
for a new one.
All you did was
temporary love.

You sing songs
Of love and
Praises
Yet you avoid
pain and Fear
of Risking it all
All you ever did was
Temporary love.
.... it was supposed to be a song but i can't bring out the melody....
Sitting at the bakery

Getting a cup of coffee
With a wonderful taste
Ingesting the smell
Letting it tickle my senses
All types of people around
Getting some breakfast

Sitting in the bakery

People watching
Lots of baked goods all around
A feel of Europe
In the heart of the city

Sitting in the bakery

Watching all the sites
Listening to different languages
Seeing people going hither and yon
Getting their goods
Starting their day

Sitting in the bakery
Ambition's wings
soar as a driving force,
elevating thoughts
to chart a new course.

Yet, talented minds,
grounded in place,
disengage gifted brains
wasting this space.

This unfurled potential
a bird's dream of flight,
without a thought or clue
of where it is migrating to.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Inspired by a quote attributed to Salvador Dali ‘Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings’
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