I remember with a sigh,
     those days, gone by.
When someone told
      a lie,
the teller, we would
       decry.

The mind, determines, who is me.
       The heart, determines, how long I'll be.

Align, insert.
      In and again,
              Till squirt.

Hurried
   Blurried,
     Wide
        Eyed,
          Attraction
            Action,
              Ending
                Sending,
                  Bedding
                    Shedding.

From a distance, the heart knew,
   I was her guy.
Up close, the heart beating,
   made me, to shy.
Looking back, the heart
    regretted,
  I walked by.

As I see it, the would
       be poets
           prime mission.
To leave their
         take, on the
             human condition.
Like no two snowflakes,
          in light flurry, or
               blizzard, the same.
No two earth bound
           humans ever played,
                an identical game.
Giving to the future
            our feelings
                 from the past.
Seems a most
             noble, present
                   day task.

No matter how much
     the body needs it sleep,
It's impossible when the brain,
       needs to speak.

Let's go the speed limit, and patiently wait,
  said no one ever, on a U.S. Interstate.

Mankind struts, across the earth,
              believing himself so wise.

Like the crowing bird, sure his voice,
                has made the sun rise.

As your yesterday's continue to pile,
   may most, be remembered with a smile.

Why did I always have a fold
        In my Mad magazine?
Because Al's irreverent art work
        just had to be seen.

Go to school, don't play the fool.
    Before you know it, you may be a poet.

The problems of the World as "I" see.
    Not enough of "You" think like "Me."

To be, or not to be, no longer
         poetrys  most important question.
But, whether written by human or,
          human, CGI suggestion.

The task, Wear a mask.

Let me be! Land of free!

Get a shot? Toss a lot?

Still a fear, For those dear.

What to do?  Life askew.

Head in sand, Many best plan.

Why this strife? The game of life.

I awaken in the dark of night,
     To a stark and chilling sight.
         11:34 reflecting the alarms red light.

I hope there will be a future, "while"

Where the pain will ease,

and I remember your smile.

Pledge allegiance to the,
     Red,White, and Blue.
Not to the grievance of,
      Left, Right, and Untrue.

I Will,
Using only ordinary words, arranged just right.
slip through your eyes, and sense of sight.
Enter your imagination, with what I write.

If you want to write a poem,
         about being angry.
             You need to first get hungry.

One thing, it seems human nature can't abide,
    Believing, it could be on the wrong side.

I think That I shall never see,
               a book of poetry,
                     That didn't **** a tree.

I'm just a man,
       trying to understand,
                     If there is a plan,
                           mortals, can understand.

I fear,
     we cheer,
          only those,
                  we want,
                          to hear.

Took a cruise,
        to Caribbean blues
On a "Dream,"
       from Mickey's team.
With my loved one,
       celebrating "51."
"Sister's Birthdays" as well,
       ages, I'll never tell.
Daughter, books for four,
       with her Aunt, connecting door.
We feel blessed,
        all four pass, "Covid test."
Pulling luggage up the ramp,
        Miami weather gets us damp.
"Fancy food,
        Princess mood.
Stage shows are gran,
        as only Disney can.
Taking time to pause,
        pictures talking, on the walls.
Giant water slide, kids of all ages use.
         Not enough time, that's my "excuse."
First port Gran Cayman,
        far from mainland.
Spent a spell,
        in "Hell."
Hard Rock store,
        number, "fifty-four."
Looking here, and here,
        for that perfect souvenir.
Storm clouds enter,
        run for tender.
Fireworks light,
        Pirate night.
Bingo, praying to heaven,
        for a "B" eleven.
Finding the "Villains" name,
        talking portraits, detective game.
Want to play Goofy golf,
        but top deck winds, blow us off.
Passing the time away,
        relaxing on Castaway Cay.
"Excuse Me!"
        Castaway "Key!"
Taking selfies over shoulders,
        of large character boulders.
Trying to get some grins,
        passing out Disney pins.
Barbecue line, sets the mood,
        now that's my, kind of food.
Back on board, one last laugh,
        with the best serving staff.
Leaving much, Birthday cake,
        going ashore we cannot take.
They're all in the atrium, better make it quick,
        Last chance to get that, character selfie pic.
Stopping to say fair well, to the man,
        who kept our room so gran.
Wishing to have more fun,
        but the packing must be done.
Getting finally to our bed,
        happy disney memories, in our head.
Down the Gangway way to soon,
        humming a Disney tune.

What's done,
          been done.
              What happened,
                         has happened
                               What you do,
                                       is up to you.

In "My" dreams, it seems, that I should be saving beautiful princesses, in castles, above a blue lagoon.
Instead of searching everywhere, without my underwear, for a clean bathroom.

Can't we see, our choice to be.

           A part or Apart

Those born with an appetite for travel, know the feel,
    Going forever hungry, but relishing every meal.

When the essence of two join as one,
            A new life has begun.

To be the "richest" would be divine,
      Yet how, "richest" would you define?

The poem that you write, that's such a delight,
         in the middle of the night,
             Seems, to lite, and so less bright,
                             in the daylight.

It seems my pen, for ink, seems to lack.
       While experiencing a gravity attack.
              When trying, to write on my back.

It seems, those who complain about the high price of Gas,

Should take more notice, of the vehicles they fly Pass.

Awewelletry \'o\'wel\e-tre (n) 1a. When you really have nothing to say, but write down something anyway. : I wanted to write some great poetry, but just came up with this  awewelletry.

New Coaster,
     Big Boaster.
   A Dare,
        They Share.
      Up Creak,
           Over Peak.
         Loud Scream,
               A Stream.
             New Pair,
                  Underwear.

One thing this country, needs to do, is flush our Number "2"

If You want to be content in Life.....Do.
  Remember, the World, was Never, About You.

I know not how humanity ends, or who the last soul will be,
         I believe, "who will remember me?", will be their final plea.

I lost you, in the dark of night.
   You said, something no longer right.
I lost you, in the sunlight of day.
   You said, you couldn't go on this way.
I lost you, truly from the very start.
   You said, I unable to give my heart.
I lost you, realizing now what it cost.
   You said, I would feel the loss.

Dreams, swirl around, like leaves in a breeze.
                        Life, is the ones, we seize.

I hope every Man, Woman, Child, Organization,
       and Government knows.
For better or worse, the light that shines behind it,
        Determines now big, it's shadow grows.

With the first breath,
         a Cry!
     With the last breath,
            a Sigh.
         With all in between,
                  a Why?

I sleep the nights away, for in my Dreams you still appear.
I weep the days away, for in my Life you're no longer here.

It seems lately, I push the pause button all the time,
Realizing it's the rewind, I really need to find.

Those who poke the Bear,
    do they realize what, they do there.
In their cruelty, do they even care,
    of the mounting danger, and beware.
Who will get the blame, if claws bare,
    And what responsibility does the watcher share.

In writing my poems, it's always my quest,
to take the time, to make it rhyme, but I'm in distress.
I wanted to convey, how much better I rest,
Since the purchase of a great mattress.
My problem you see after plenty of test, I bought a "Purple,"
and "Dang Me" the only thing I found to rhyme was, "Maple Surple."
One of the the worlds favorite pigments, after centuries of time,
has not a single word to which in can rhyme.
A color once held in history as the royal shade,
even now leaves this poet, his poem unmade.
A purple fruit, from which wine we could make,
And someone chose, to call it a "grape."
I say it's high time to correct, this to long slight,
And save the word "Purple" from it's unjust blight
How about you Auto Makers, with your Durango,Sienna, and Tesla.
Come up with a sporty "Verpule," if you wanna Impreza.
Hey, Disney you once rhymed, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,
would doing "Purple" be so atrocious.
Big Pharma, with your colorful, zides, mycins, and statins,
maybe you can use an "urple" in your next covid patents.
You TikTok influencers I'm calling on you,
#Purplechallenge, together, let's see what we can do.
Well, I was really pumped, but now, I just sit here sad.
The Purple Company, sent a gift, an "ORANGE" mattress pad.
So now I pull out my ceremonial sword of "Silver,"
and commit this poem to: "Hari Kilver."

Oh, the decisions of the heart.
       To live without your voice,
                 or let it tear me apart.

Pen is moving, anxious to start.
   Will it translate what's in the heart?
Ink is now, beginning it's flow.
   Staining the paper, with what comes from the soul.
Lines change into letters, forming the words.
   Will they be the ones, that want to be heard?
Sentences follows sentence, after a time,
    are they conveying, what was held in the mind?
With the final period, laying down the pen.
    Till the need arises, to begin, again.