Beauty in the sea
Blond Lady,
Standing in  the sea.
Golden skinned beauty,
Perfection to see.

What country, She asked.
Ireland  I sighed,
Ukraine she smiled.
Heaven, I died


That is all she could say,
No more I could say,
looking at each other,
Amid st salty gushing waves.

No English she said,
No Russian in my head.
Pointlessly smiling,
Conversation bore dead.


All alone in the Arabian sea,
Blond beauty standing next to me.

Stranded in an uncomfortable pause,
Unknown cure to the unfortunate cause.

I hinted her name, Joanna said she,
While standing together in the Arabian sea.

Being your best friend and your own worst enemy is most conflicting.
Patting yourself on the back,
Or catching yourself by the scruff of the neck.

Being happy in thy own self,
Easier said than done.

One part of you wants to move on with life,
But the other is insistent on staying in the past,
Dwelling on all the negatives,
Blocking all the positives.

Maybe the are just like political parties,
But in my head,
One being as bad as the other.

If only I could deafen my mind,
I would nt have to listen to either of them,
And all would be well with the world.

Maybe I will try that electric shock therapy,
Stick my brain in a frying pan,
Tenderize some synapses and neurons,
Or the past, present, and future.
Medium rare, a little ******, let them juices flow.

Soften the thoughts that haunt us,
That we have no control over now.
Making life flow easier,
But then again,
If i go down that road
I might not be able to taste anything at all,
Everything will be so bland.
Trials and tribulations.
Being the pepper sauce,
Unfortunately.

Oh why did we have to have free will,
Life would have been so much easier if it was all mapped out for us.
This thinking malarkey can really be too much at times,
All this contemplating, dwelling, and fretting.

Its a dogs life,
So simple, so easy
No stress or responsibilities,
And they dont lose their hair.

Dragging paws along the grass,
Growling, breath near its last,
Eyes  tiny ember, fade away to black

Wooden boats to ****** oaths,
Come on let's have a spell,
For the time is near to chug a beer,
Your tale is fair to tell.

And a barbie too, round  hopping roos,
That go in haste of wander,
Through fertile fields, that justly yield
For this isle iv grown much fonder.

So what's the go, of the land down low
Where the folks are chilled and paced
Well never say no, to having a go
And come forth to thou lands embrace

So put away your smartphone
And come yarn over the now
Now crack that beer, the sun is here
And then we,ll roast that ****** sow

The lack of those little things
Having us wonder why
Our lack of those little things
Ushers a pitiful sigh

Frequenting past memories
O what might have been
Stressing and guessing
That old yet relevant scene

Nips and Tucks for those little stucks
That finesse I could not find
Yearning for those times again,
To remove thy finger from rewind.

Hand up high, or put the head in
Tomorrow pondering , O what might have been.
Illiterate to those times past being
To those times of silence we,ve all seen.

I met a 22 year old magician today.
He showed me a trick.
He had done nothing but smile at me.

I looked into his eyes and saw two dead brothers,
A dead father, dysfunctional mother
And an ill son.

I asked him how did he do this trick so perfectly?
He replied "I have had lots of practice,
But he warned me that its not for the faint hearted.

Laughing on the out,
Crying on the in.

Smiling and, jocular.

Running around  in  their size sixteens,
Throwing cherry pies,
Jumping on the bouncy castle

Everybodys friend.

Behind the painted mask,
The Poker face reveals its hand,
Eyes soaked in sorrow,
Joys blocked by stagnant woes,

Chiseled into the walls of their mind,

Elusive demons at their door,
Relentless till there is no more