My souls sanity stays in balance only because of my understanding of how my past & my present are in a fine balance together.

Never to let them meet ,they must remain discreet

But not naive to think they both don't play a role
The clearing of our minds is useful but the present is part of the past
  Age is the dominant factor but it gains the strength from previous delusions

  Many scream WHEN WILL IT END never recalling where it began
  If we want to stay, part of the price we must pay
  Is to live in harmony with our ourselves,not stuck but knowing we never ran
  We will be led astray is a natural fact, it is behind but also part of today.R.C.

Intelligent or Smart
        Why are we intelligent?
Because we have a mind of
                               Intelligence
To show what is human Beings.

Smart or Intelligent
         Are we smart to know
                                              Everything
No but there is an talent we keep
           Everyday and don't get it
Called intelligent or smart.

Intelligent peoples are more thinking
than smart peoples
Some smart peoples think that they are most important than us today
But has to remember that we are not smart or intelligent.

              By K-mari ©2016

whether rich & famous or poor & down trodden that final wailing howl always sounds the same!
The pain is so deep not even the grim reaper can creep into that bleeding broken soul!
We hustle our pennies our nickel & dimes, often so tired it seems almost a crime!
To remain upright stable & strong, encouraged by our belief that we will be never be lame or driven insane!

A flip of the coin & a quick roll of the dice,a glance so fast we never think twice!
We never know they never know us ,who asks you if it was worth it or if you had a nice day!
Is our existence is only meant for us ,or to gain the wisdom to teach them to play nice!
The measurement of man is taken at many levels, the judgment is constant but who knows the right way!

Do I accept the fact that it always on my windowsill,but enjoy it still a few feet from the front door!
Those who make conclusions never understanding their delusions,do know a true meaning do our souls need cleaning!
I remain the aggressor the pursuit can become obsessive,we need a real reason to keep us from the floor!
Who is it that remains elevated to a higher place or that tumbles from grace,is there really a final final intervening!

As quick as today as fast as tomorrow maybe even now,will the hours be everlasting or quick & to the point!
Our lives are a giant passion play we always think we we'll make it to the final golden end!
Is more like the beauty rainbows or butterflies why does it always bring thoughts of being dressed in black!
The peace a harmony of my moments before me,we should make it worthwhile not worry about when we'll be anointed! R.C.

Resolutions floating freely in revolutions,swiftly passing awaiting to grasp.

Fixing without fixating,able to hope to be stable is enough to lay on the table .

Same situation with a similar picture then why do we feel the play needs to be recast ?

Sitting in the chair catching a familiar glare,another day of staring at the old maple.

Finished with reassessments, why make so many changes  if they really won't last?

Fresh surveillance  finds unfinished fun, another race to run, more ways to be playful.

Held back when once so strong, needing to make right the wrong from a stained past.

Spatial mind not yet blind ,reassessing constantly not comfortable with becoming glacial

Crack from the door same illumination on the floor ,begging how quick will it be dashed?

Stepping out never knew it could be hard, wanting to follow a new path not to be fatal

Faded observations through mesh of screen fledgling emotion now seen not to be mashed

Needing new perspectives ,gaining power  & insights with my new view  no longer askew , will try to remain grateful.R.C.

Passed  a  neglected  garden  of  late.
It  seemed  in  quite  a ­­ sorry  state.
Some  men  came  to  make  some  notes.
But  seem­ed  to  give  it  little  thought.
Up  on  high  the  grasses  gr­ow.
Beneath  the  windows  row  by  row.
The  other  plants  just­ ­ cry  with  pain.
I  guess  we'll  never  grow  again.
They  ha­ve­  taken  up  our  space  on  the  ground
Like  an  advancing  ­army  I'll  be  bound.
They  are  taking  our  water  Oh  my.
As ­ they  journey  to  the  sky.
Perhaps  it  soon will  be  resolved.­
And  peace  will  reign.
Once again

Keith  Wilson    Windermere.  UK.  2016­.

What is left to say if simply transcribing another's  antidotes

Will not knowing an idiom from a metaphor automatically make me an idiot?

Left to our own devices now will be up to the reader who surmises  or denotes

Will particles of paraphrases become our own, simply a contest to find the wittiest?

Alliteration in our communication stresses our sounds like more bass from out throats

Faced with future facsimiles will we ponder to produce our own or leave us inexperienced

Seemingly sly salutations setting by the wayside wishing to be brought forward for their own votes

Smooth as a baby's **** some configurations combine to make them the silkiest

Sometimes simple silly slogans become our deepest thought leaving little to decode

Tricky trusty truisms tantalize while beige boring subtitles often stand the test

Reaching for fruit that will fall anyway,does it become easier to the take the lesser road

Reading and receiving often one sided or deceiving, playing differently when put into
writing it will now be left to the reader to decode. R.C.