"errored" poems
Mock not my indiscretions.
Much can come from errored choice.
lessons oft come by misdirection,
So give me not the taunting voice.
Ask me when I am older
If my dreams have proven true.
Perhaps by then shall I be bolder,
Humbled e'en, maybe grateful too.
Should I never reach that status
Hold me not with disrespect.
Ask instead how life would shape us
Were we all so circumspect.
Do love me please for what I am.
Hold me dear for all I give you.
I really do the best I can,
Judge me not on what I should do.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 1:08 AM UTC
Incompossible
<>
not mutually possible:
INCONSISTENT, INCOMPATIBLE
<>
inconsistent, yes,
incompatible, never
*we have lived and loved
each other since
a singular moment
in grade school
profound!
(what a perfect compositional word!)
friendship, intuitively embraced,
circumstances dictated an
on/off interspersed
coexistence decades in length,
a hit or miss geographical
distancing,
thst technology overcame
with no evaporative loss
of
sensational connectivity
across great times and
greater distances
we trialed and
errored our landlines,
for a time,
we lived together,
then nearby,
with other spouses, who knew
and tolerated, our exceptional
to the rules of coexistences,
we were closer than close,
the space between us was of wafer size, nearly invisible to the naked eyes of others, but unchanging
as much as it was unique and
uncharted
periods of absence of years measurable
and the first conversation
began exactly where the long ago prior had ceased
never fully accepted,
surely not ever
fully
tolerated + understood,
we stumbled upon a word,
incompossible
that captured the
drama, the hopefulness,
the hopelessness of
our separated conjoining
as a summary perfect
of us
a true tale,
a novel of pro-found
loss and gain
that cannot be be told
or totaled,
a sum of summary,
an unavowed marriage of
souls with no legality,
and yet
by its very in-completed nature,
it was perfected by it's very unending undefinable defiance
of definition:
we made the
incompossible,
possible,
the incompatible,
patible,
unfounded by circumstances,
unbounded in our intuition,
we yet live in a hopeful
state of unfulfilled totality of*
almost fufillment
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 2:23 PM UTC
I tripped along the railroad tracks
trying to escape from your trespasses of my trust;
trotting t'wards that treasure I hid
on a trail beyond those trees there.
Triggered by treachery, the truth in these tribulations
trialed and errored and transformed..
Tricky triumph, trifle *****
I tripped along the railroad tracks.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
When I was down, You lifted me up.
When I errored , You forgave.
When I was sick, You received me in your arms.
When I was lonely, You reminded me, "I am always with you."
When my broken heart despaired, You healed me with your Love.
When I did all that I could and wanted to quit, You carried me.
Lifting me securely into your arms.
When I learned to see you
I found you in everyone's eyes.
Divine Love, I love you.
Within my heart of hearts,
As one Love, never ever will we part.
Oh my beautiful Divine Love
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC
grit on my face…damn!
<>
city boy, progeny of the multi-cultures
any new yorker breathes, the grit fills in
the mini pores, but even better, the lines and
the deep furrowed creases of squinting worries,
inherent and inherited
from years of peering into
the future whose outcomes always fell
outside the range of ordinary misperceptions
and into the realms of extraordinarily ordinary…
even the grit and the grip of grief, cause and
consequence of my endless errored foreseeing,
equally crinkly when smiling and/or grimacing,
for I read what I have written smilingly, and grimace with
the unknown knowledge yet within, there is more to come,
but from who knows where or when, and the grit hardened
exterior groans with the thrill of pulling and
purging yet more words from the
Sea of Churn,
whose burning sensations brings cherried sundae
of mixed anxious trepidations and a groan of relief
when the work of words is done and done & delivered,
and yet:
(that fearsome worded curse)
sadly seeds the junkies need for the next fix…
and my lips issue a pleasured ****
7:59am
Sabbath Sat.
29 June 2024
Jun 29, 2024
Jun 29, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC
I am just like you
pretty when I was born
beautiful when I grew
I was just a person
walking on God's creation
living life with His certain
my color should not matter
we are the colors in His crayon box
mixed and matched, to create a splatter
as it takes form
our blood bleeds the same red
His painting of perfection has lead
to the now
the intelligence He bestowed upon us
perhaps He errored in trusting us
I can envision His hand
wiping the palate clean
a tear rolls down His mighty cheek
Heart broken from what He,s seen
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC