When the power goes out,
     there is no doubt.
How dependent, we be,
     on our electricity.

It seems, human
  "civilizations,"
     only plan,
       to sacrifice
         their soul,
           and riches,
             to harm their,
               fellow man.

Because so few walked the path
    of climates, master,
So many are fleeing the path
    of climates, disaster.

SO MANY HAVE COME BEFORE MY TIME,
           TO THIS KNOWLEDGE, I MUST RESIGN,
                      AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT, WILL NEVER BE MINE.

Keep it simple,
   keep it neat.
Make it easy,
     to repeat.
Maybe they,
    won't delete.

All men are created equal. He said.
She raised her eyes, and shook her head.

The wonders of nature,
    that so attract,
are made by forces under,
    constant attack.
The wonders of humans,
      the world begat,
when together they said,
      we can build that.

Riches and fame,
      seldom the game.
Contentment and pride,
       still a good ride.

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."

Sorry if I haven't commented
  on your poetry, recently.
The refresh, on hepo keeps
  spinning constantly.
Maybe time, for a new
   tablet, for me.

From the earth's beginning
of life, and night,
It has been a companion,
to all with sight.

A controller of nature,
and oceans tides.
Showing only one side
the other it hides

Cycling from lighted face,
to smiling away.
It taught humans a span,
longer than a day.

Floating above in white
florescent grace,
A symbol of Romance, and
  a slower pace.

Realizing that everyone,
each and all.
Have looked up with wonder
of earth's reflective ball.

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

The death of a loved one,
    effects the souls symmetry.
When the scale of life, tips
     from, knowing to memory.

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

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

Align, insert.
      In and again,
              Till squirt.

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

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.

Being bold,  
  Not as easy,
    When old.
          Yet!
Best, stories
   often unfold,
     when told.

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

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

Next time the cost of
something, has you
  angry or blue.
Think of the chain
it took, to get to you.

2
Humans became the dominant of every kind,
When they turned from muscle, to using the mind.
And to their apex, they started to reach,
Giving up instinct, and learning to Teach.

I believed in a preacher,
  when I was nine.
Who said he would, live to see
  the "end of time".
Through out history "Believers"
  have followed this "line".
He's now, long gone, and I'm
  pass, "my prime".
I, still search, for that, which
  we call, "Devine".
I believe, that task was always
  "meant to be mine".
Yet, to many, claim
   "This is The Sign"
I find: my  own,
      "LINE"

HERE'S TO THE CLEVER SHEEP HERDERS OF THE ISLE OF ERIN,
WITH MANY A SHEEP, BUT FOR FENCING BARREN.
THEY PAINT THE BREAST OF THEIR RAMS IN COLORFUL HUES,
THEN IN A FEW DAYS, CHECK THE RUMPS OF THE EWES.
TO SEE WITH WHOM, THE LAMBS THEY'LL BE A SHAR'IN.

Arguing a belief till your face turns blue,
    Doesn't necessarily make it true.

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

Oh, to think that it would happen on Christmas Day.  

1. When she opened the ring box, what would she say?

2. I'd be pulling guard duty in a land, far away.

3. The locks have been changed, I have nowhere to stay.

4. I'd actually be riding, in a one horse open sleigh.

5. The snow made a Christmas card out of the bay.

A memorable night.
     Anniversary cruise,
        down the Danube,
          with Budapest alight.

A Juicy Fruit wrapper, lays crumpled on the floor,
over there between my desk and the door.
How many people worked to get it just right.
That paper, that will get swept up tonight.
That Juicy Fruit wrapper crumpled on the floor,
over there between my desk and the door.

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

The feel of sand beneath the toes.
The smell of sea breeze fills the nose.
The sigh of foaming surf soothes the ears.
The heady taste of a few cold beers.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
Oh so easy on the eye.
Leaving everyday troubles behind.
In a paradise state of mind.

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.

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

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

It seems,now on "hello poetry,"
  only a fraction
       is getting to me.
Going to following, only
      a few I see.
Is this the future
     of this site to be.
Someone fix this
      is my plea!
It, I find, means
   much too thee.

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

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

So many of you with that
        10watt mass in your head.
Can generate so much,  
          out there, to be read.
Garnering likes, loves, and
          repost, that spread.
Making me post, my attempts,
          with a sense of dread.
Hopefully pushing my own
           wattage to a "nine."
I can manage, to generate,
            a usable line.
Afraid my watts, don't know
            what's unless I rhyme.
Again I'm afraid, I've wasted,
            everyone's time.

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

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

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

SOMETIMES THE ONLY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN
ACCEPTANCE AND HATE,
IS HOW FAR WE LOOK BEYOND
THE OTHERS FRONT GATE.

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

Don't use a whale,
           to tell,
     a minnows, tale.

One young woman, One young man.
She comes down towards him, on her fathers hand.

Two smiles, Two hearts, Two lives to blend.
So happy, So sure, So ready to begin.

He stands tall, The hopeful Young Knight.
She dazzles all, The Princess in White.

Priest in cassock, arms in the air,
Welcomes everyone, to the joyous affair.

A candle is lit, vows are read,
Everyone straining to hear what is said.

Picking hands, they exchange gold rings,
As the ***** plays, and the singer sings.

Together they kneel as prayers are said,
The procession of faithful, for wine and bread.

Then the Priest ask, "For blessings through life"
For this newest of Husbands,and his young Wife.

All the planning, and bustle leading to this,
So quickly over, Sealed with a kiss.

Then they walk to their future, hand held in hand,
One young Woman, One young Man.

EVERY DAY WE TREAD TOWARD OUR MORTAL ENDING,
WILL WE SIMPLY BE GONE, OR STARTING OUR NEW BEGINNING.
IS THERE A CHEQUE TO BE DETERMINED SAINT OR SINNER,
OR THE NEXT COURSE, IN A LIFE EXTENDING DINNER.
WILL WE KNOW THE HEAT OF HELL, OR THAT GARDEN OF ADAM'S.
OR SIMPLY REJOIN THE UNIVERSE AS BILLIONS OF ATOMS.

Round and round our life goes,
          And where it stops,
                 Mankind's Curse,
                      Everyone knows.

My best play,
   On many a day,
       What, I didn't say.

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

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.