I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion,
A personable recluse fighting the illusion
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion.

I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone,
When collective pessimistic thoughts condone
The woeful tales that howl and moan.

I hear voices of people that aren’t there,
Yet find myself in calmness aware
Despite their tormented accusational affair.

I see ideals living and thriving out there
Even when apathy or indifference ensnare
Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair

I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately
I hold onto desire so restlessly,
That I’ve tired the being of my entity,

I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea
Where waters churn in active disharmony,
Yet comfort as it may my tranquility.

I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy
As if my words, thoughts, and feelings,
Have changed the world entirely.

I feel everything as I believe it should be,
Riding the waves of intensity
In emotionally humble serendipity,

I touch the stars in remote prose,
Wandering the vast expanses without close,
Wherever my mind goes, it goes.

I worry about the future of humanity,
As if I was merely here to watch observantly
From some unknown eternity.

I cry for those in silent pain
With fake smiles of disdain
Who dare not speak for thought in vain.

I am a quiet observer of the human condition
Checking and balancing sedition
Though never granting my submission.

I understand the fallibility of the mind,
Gathering as many perspectives I can find,
Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined.

I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant
Prone to be dominated by the prevalent
Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent.

I dream when I’m awake through my ideals,
Even when they’re still just spinning wheels,
Hoping they gain traction as time reveals.

I try to be better than the day before,
As that’s the best way to keep score,
When the world has us compared to others so much more.

I hope my legacy is genuine,
I regret nothing even when I sin,
As time wears down my wrinkled grin.

I am only human, to live and to die,
That’s about all we can be or rely,
And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.

Let me tell you a true story of tragic love;
And you had better believe it, for there's no lie.
'Twas on the Isle of Kos that I met Helga one day,
Sitting in a taverna, sipping an ouzo.
I sat down and we soon exchanged a word or two,
Flirting and teasing 'til the sun sank in the sea.
I suggested a walk on the beach (subtle move)
Which is when I received a nice little surprise.
She stood up in all her glory and then I found
That she was well over a eighteen inches shorter than my humble self,
A genuine short-**** with a prosthetic leg to boot
Which promised me something rather special.

Nothing put out, we ended up in my bedroom
And I shoved my hot tongue right up her angelic ****.
"Did you like that?" I enquired (a gent as always)
"It was repulsive," she replied with a slight sneer.
And when we woke up together the next bright morn
I found she had vomited on my bedside jeans,
Before leaving me alone on the encrusted sheets.
Unfortunately the jeans shrunk a bit when I washed the puke out
And their exquisite tightness on my private parts
Reminded me for several days of this amorous encounter.

Was her criticism of my oral skills her unusual Norwegian humour?
Perhaps she really meant to call me her Übermensch?
Maybe it was sarcasm and got lost in translation
So stimulated was she post-orgasmically.
One horrid thought still remains - she might have meant it
(after all, as Nietzsche once said so observantly
"in revenge and in love woman is more barbarous than man.").
And thus I am left with confused memories of that night:
Her face was that of blond angel but her tongue was sharp
And it really was a crying shame about her leg-stump
Which wept slightly.

As we sit back and observe the leaves of fall,
We can silently, and observantly, ponder it all.
How our lives seem to go so fast,
And how our years have quickly became the past.

When we are young, we hardly understand
How fast time goes, how fast the falling sand.
But when we get older the speed of time is clear,
And each passing day brings the end more near.

We must ask ourselves: have we seized the day?
Or took a few minutes to help someone along the way?
Help to pass on what life has given you,
Help to show others a new worldly view.

Human lives are akin to trees in some ways
The falling leaves symbolize our bygone days.
But trees have the ability to sprout anew,
But once our leaves have fallen, our lives are through.

So, I say, observe your days with lasting embrace,
For when gone it’s time you cannot replace.
And when your leaves are gone, I hope it is known,
That because of you, someone else’s leaves have grown.

Yes! It's another "Barry Hodges" poem!

Let me tell you a true story of tragic love;
And you had better believe it, for there's no lie.
'Twas on the Isle of Kos that I met Helga one day,
Sitting in a taverna, sipping an ouzo.
I sat down and we soon exchanged a word or two,
Flirting and teasing 'til the sun sank in the sea.
I suggested a walk on the beach (subtle move)
Which is when I received a nice little surprise.
She stood up in all her glory and then I found
That she was well over a foot shorter than my humble self,
A genuine short-**** with a prosthetic leg to boot
Which promised me something rather special.

Nothing put out, we ended up in my bedroom
And I shoved my hot tongue right up her angelic ****.
"Did you like that?" I enquired (a gent as always)
"It was repulsive," she replied with a slight sneer.
And when we woke up together the next bright morn
I found she had vomited on my bedside jeans,
Before leaving me alone on the encrusted sheets.
Unfortunately the jeans shrunk a bit when I washed the puke out
And their exquisite tightness on my private parts
Reminded me for several days of this amorous encounter.

Was her criticism of my oral skills her unusual Norwegian humour?
Perhaps she really meant to call me her *Übermensch?
Maybe it was sarcasm and got lost in translation
So stimulated was she post-orgasmically.
One horrid thought still remains - she might have meant it
(after all, as Nietzsche once said so observantly
"in revenge and in love woman is more barbarous than man.").
And thus I am left with confused memories of that night:
Her face was that of blond angel but her tongue was sharp
And it really was a crying shame about her leg-stump.

I see you as you're watching me
Catching every detail as you view so carefully.
Your eyes are glued to my every move as you observe so attentively.
Everything I do and say
you study it throughout the day.
You see Me when I cry
Even when you try not to pry.
When the tears begin fall and You're asking me, "WHY?
And mommy please don't lie.
There's something wrong and this you can't hide."
So this was my Reply,
"My life feels like a pigsty
no matter how hard I tried.
Times when to you I just try to advise and emphasize
not taking the time to understand how you feel inside.
That's why we didn't see Eye to eye and  I always ended up feeling like the bad guy.
Sweetie pie,
your behaviors I cannot justify
but there are Rules and regulations that we must abide by.
On me you must rely
No I don't have the answers to everything
But this much I can testify and bring
all I have is my heart and love as an offering.
I pray that You love me just as much as I love you.
There's so many things that I've gotten use to that you have seemed to outgrew.
There's things that I'd wish I could undo.
So many things I want to tell you.
Things we haven't even gotten to do.
Our love has been proven to be tride and true.
***, I Need a tissue
I think we just had a breakthrough.
Because the bond between you and I is better than Wi-Fi.
This much I can verify
That Mommy loves her little ones, all you littles wise guys.
I love being being a mother fervently
Because you guys bring out the best in me.
Personally,
I enjoy watching you watching me so
Observantly.