"optimists" poems
Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
Toast to stolen prayers with rarer player’s hands;
Soft in defiant laughter,
when drinking their wine from the bowels of brines
Sing along the Ballads of Heritage with Melodies of Exception;
Boast, not a breathe,
though sullen heirs ghost to fairer wearer’s air(s) of land—
A settlement of Rapture and Resurrection, arid, amid dirt and sand
and King and thy Kingdom sprout flowering tomb, and rosebud temple reach to the sky during the showers of spring
Devours the crescent Moon
in big pink petals of bloom;
A garden so fertile
it could look pretty in wartime—
with Gardeners of Courage and Laborers of Excellence;
(Lapse, not into digressions of Being and Essence
but hands in the soil and planting the actions of kingdom come,
patient building of Spring Reign sure
as the flame, the architect of rising Sun is
(Daughters and Sons of kingdom came,
the soldier in a land been conquered and named; abandoned
for the greenness of hope.
)May it never come, Be All The Same; (
be gentle, though whispering wind)
Seeds of Nextyear and the spores of Awhile,
carried by the Wasps and the Clouds
To the Gentlemen of Excellence and Ladies of Courage,
illuminated, eyes from the flora of stars faraway forest floor of foreign
fears,
as the hungry Owls of Time prepare a final feast—
Consume the years between Here and Now;
Watching from blank perch, among
the Trees of Afterall; a place beyond expectance.
Sing the branches of experience, to wake
in Siren’s cipher; inelegant forms
of waking,
ugly sleep on rocks of seabed; once was aboard a marooned skyline—
Those Who Are Will Be
again, again a serf in a wave of Time’s refraction. Neverending neverbeginning;
Those Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
on the Day That Is, arrays of seers sayers doers displayers
optimists and pessimists, toast to them
and their rarer player’s hands,
Boast they, not a breathe, though sullen heirs ghost
to fairer wearer’s air and land;
Laugh and howl and dine, they drink their wine
from disemboweled gourds
of their own divine—
Warped, in jowls of hungry fix,
no feast they fear, for they prey to the Owls of Time.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation.
The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath.
Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation.
Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind.
This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial.
Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
You really can do whatever you want, you know.
People who say that aren't just naive optimists.
However, they do leave out a very important caveat:
You really can do whatever in the world that you want...
So long as you want it MORE than anything else in the world.
Like... say you want to leave town.
Maybe you don't do it.
Maybe you sit in your office and dream about getting on a plane but you never do.
Responsibilities, money, family, friends, fear...
Excuses.
Honestly,
Excuses.
The truth that people don't like to face because it makes them uncomfortable is that if you REALLY wanted to leave town,
If you wanted that and only that,
If you wanted it more than anything else in your entire life,
You would do it.
That is the simple truth about... most impossible things.
You want it? You've got it. But you've got to be willing to give up every other thing in your entire life in pursuit of it.
You've got to know yourself well enough to know, absolutely KNOW, that this thing is what you want, what your soul craves, what your dreams revolve around.
You have got to be 100% dead SURE that what you want is what you WANT.
And if you are, if you can know that and face it and understand how selfish it might be to abandon everything else in your life for it, and if somehow it still pulls you towards it like a magnet even with all the rationality and doubt and practical thinking you can throw at it...
Then that is your purpose. Your dream. And you will have it.
That said, anyone who thinks I'm unreasonable, or silly, or naive, or wasteful for going after love...
Quite simply, I know what I want.
I know who I want.
I know what makes me happy.
And since I know it so clearly, so utterly, so inescapably, I couldn't possibly live with myself if I didn't do everything I could to have it.
And it's not an easy path, knowing what you want.
Because when the answer is no, it's no to your deepest dreams, to your heart's most aching desire.
When you have to wait, you have to wait for air to fill your lungs, you have to wait to be born.
When you lose it, you lose the sun, you lose the earth under your feet, you lose the courage to look in the mirror.
But when you have it... when you have it, you have a home.
I know what I want. I want love. I want to be happy.
I want to do what I love doing, and I want to be with who I adore.
And if I know that, and I admit that, and I put everything I can into that...
Well then,
It's not over until I breathe my last breath.
I haven't failed until I've fallen.
And I think I can live with that.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Hope is, by definition, a feeling of expectation and desire for something to happen, a feeling of trust
Hope carries anchors on it's shoulders, afraid it will only meet the standard of almost
We all hope, but we do not all receive
Hope is the product of human weakness
We long that's why we aspire
Imagine how weak man is, we are not like birds that can fly when we want to go to places or we want to see people
We are frail and easily inflicted with illnesses
We are fragile bottles that easily break physically and emotionally, hence the development of the helmet and airbags
The study of human emotion called psychology and psychiatry
And worse, we die, that is why men searched for the fountain of youth to no avail
Hope helps us to move on and continue
Hope is a wish, hope is a motivator
Hope gives a reason to keep going
Hope is the whisper telling us that it will get better in time
But I ask, why do the hands of my clock have arthritis
Hope is not a liar
Hope is encouraging but hope is also deceiving
Hope is joker, a trickster
Like an amateur magician, everyone could see the trap door but me
Hope will disappoint you
Hope is not perfect, hope does not always work out like you think hope should
But hope is valuable, hope keeps balance
Hope carries the unable, the dreamers, the optimists
Hope is the guide
Without hope, we're lost
Without hope, we're nothing
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
Opening day
Is extra special
For a Pirates fan
We are tied
For first place
Even in
Wins and losses
Looking forward
To the playoffs
Go Buccos!
After twenty
Years of loosing
A world record
Of loosing
We need this
One day
To feel good
Before we
Lose again
Maybe not
This might
Be our year
Opening day
Optimists
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
they told me that
i am a pessimist
that i should wear
my positive hat
and not think of malice.
i am very sure that
*every pessimist
were once an optimist.*
they went through
things that made them
lose hope
and lose their courage
to bravely trust and believe
again.
from the tiniest bit of betrayal
to the biggest act of treason.
i believe no one is born a pessimist.
they were all once, optimists.
hope may be a superficial belief
but it's not as fake as you think it is.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
Does an optimist or a pessimist write the better poem?
Does an optimist with his rhyme and meter
Writing songs of love, nature, and spring?
Or are a pessimist’s dirges
Of bitter betrayal and loss more inspiring?
Both pessimists and optimists sing
Soft, yet loudly their own song.
So who writes the better poem?
What is the better song?
One of the marriage bed,
Or one of love gone wrong?
All sympathize with sadness;
All feel the pangs of joy.
Songs of rotten apples,
Or of bouncing baby boys?
So what expression does the better poet employ?
Truth is they touch us daily.
All just parts of life.
Tears and laughter not unique to ********** or wife.
Yes maybe optimists and pessimists are not so far apart,
For both pessimists and optimists capture the human heart.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
I often find that the people I know are polarized,
they range from,
positive to negative,
you have your optimists,
your idealists,
your cynics,
your nihilists,
and oddly enough,
everyone else.
Optimists believe in Hamilton's Principle,
but they tailor it to our own fabric,
they believe that for some unknown reason,
the current situation is the optimal one,
everything will be alright,
que sera sera,
carpe diem.
Idealists believe in truth,
they understand what is ideal,
and what is not,
they attempt to apply such principles to the observed world,
and more often than not,
they fail,
but that's alright,
they tried their best.
Cynics view the world as it is,
they observe and make rational judgement,
realism at its finest,
a time tested trait,
pragmatism has served them well.
Nihilists believe that life is without intrinsic meaning,
there is nothing that cannot be observed,
a craft of existentialist theory,
they assert that morality is a figment of mankind's imagination,
and for all we know,
they could be right.
And finally we have the remainder,
those of us we have no idea what we believe,
no path traced in the sand,
no trail blazed in the years prior,
and sometimes I think that perhaps this group is right,
there are limits to human understanding,
and so I ask,
how can we know,
oh,
how can we know?
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
What decisions are big in life,
A school, profession, marriage,
Or every change that we make?
How do we know what choice is right,
Will it be a hit or a big mistake?
Small man’s decisions are important to him,
But some decisions can change many people's fate.
Some can bring world peace,
But some can bring war and enormous hate.
Every choice has its good sides,
But sometimes only one bad can cost a lot.
Some decisions can ruin our lives,
Some can take us to a right spot.
No one can predict a future,
Sometimes you must take a risk,
When time is up and you can’t wait any longer.
Sometimes mistakes are good for us,
We can learn a lot from them,
And they make us stronger.
If something did not work out as we planned,
Optimists say,
Who knows why this is a good.
Hope dies last,
And when it is hard,
We have to be in a right mood.
When you make important decisions,
You need to ask your close people for an advice,
But your life is only your,
And you must roll the dice.
You have to rule with your life,
Listen other's advice,
But your word is the last.
Big decisions, big responsibility,
Only true friends wish you the best.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
optimists and pessimists
need each other
to diffuse
their respective
perspectives.
pessimists
get too helpless.
they feel
everything is on them.
it starts to feel
like they think they're Atlas,
or Sisyphus.
pushing their boulder up
the mountain, forever
and ever
alone.
some inferiority complexes
border on narcissism.
optimists get too helpful.
they burn so hot
they forget that sometimes
they can be as useless
as the pessimists feel.
most people that want
to be positive, surround
themselves with positive
people. and negativity
vice versa.
this creates delusion.
it makes happy people
seeing all that's happy
and unhappy people
seeing all that's unhappy.
no one group feels
for the other
and neither ends up feeling
anything
completely.
you put yourself in
a position where all your
input contains a consistent
confirmation of your stale,
untested outlook.
if nothing is tested, nothing
is validated.
that's just science.
surround yourself with
people that diffuse you.
you need that
tension.
if nothing else,
you won't get
bored.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
Optimists and Pessimists remind
That the moon knows not it's own shadow,
Or to be kind to the desert sun.
(Midnight, Noon, Midnight, Noon).
Light: an unstoppable force,
Dark: an immovable object.
(Twilight, Twilight).
Dead leaves turn into rot,
Seeds turn rot into leaves.
(Equinox, Equinox).
Check my watch,
Look at the sky-
(Leap year).
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
Love stories do not start the same
Yet they all end the classic way
Odd first encounter, then obstacles
Come credits, movie fades with wonder.
Sugar-coated films are to blame
Viewers listen to what they say
That love is worth a million battles
In the end, you'll find the right partner.
Romantics yearn for the Grand Finale
Optimists believe in Meant To Be's
Broken hearts curse the hurtful truth
And films try do define the rule.
Love the drama and the silly
Sick of the cheesy and the tease
Either way, like having a sweet tooth,
Their imagination becomes your tool.
Still, I have another idea
Of how it should be, how it feels.
Then again, I got no clue at all
But I'm certain it's not like the films.
Nothing real can come of thee,
Only partials and it kills
The erratic beauty of it all,
Love must be more than what they scheme.
So I know it's not like fiction
Pain lasts and it never ends well;
So I want better than fiction
Perhaps one day, I'll be able to tell.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
The number of letters or poems I write to you
Are insignificant.
You’ll never read them.
Never know of their existence.
Yet, for some unexplained reason
I still write them.
Maybe there’s a secret Optimist
Hidden deep within me
That’s still rooting for you.
Hoping that maybe at this moment
You actually are reading this.
That maybe this whole catastrophe
Was just a misunderstanding.
Maybe.
Maybe one day
You’ll look at me the same way you used to.
And maybe you’ll hold my hand again.
The gentle way your hand cradled mine.
Just maybe.
I wrote a song for you,
That some day you might hear it on the radio
As you drive down the dirt roads
In your light blue Mustang that I loved.
Finding it catchy, drumming your fingers
Along to it on the leather steering wheel.
Your head would bob in a rhythmic beat
And maybe, just maybe,
You’ll think of me.
Of what we had.
Of what could have been.
These are the dangerous thoughts of an Optimist.
Scrawled upon a piece of loose notebook paper
In the middle of class.
I hide this Optimist deep within the many layers of myself,
As She takes these thoughts with Her.
Maybe one day, She and those silly ideas
Will be consumed in the surrounding darkness.
It would be better off for Her anyways.
This world is not kind to Optimists.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
The Street Cleaner
He is not a lucky man, but he is happy but one day he won on a lottery ticket,
not a not a big sum of money but enough to by wheelbarrow got permission
from the local council to keep the town's streets clean. Happy, telling himself
he was self- employed and could sleep till nine in the morn if he wanted to.
A busy bee a busy bee he was till he collided with Mercedes was taken to court
and his wheelbarrow was confiscated to pay for the damage. He had a bike and
got a local garage to put a two- wheel contraption to fasten to his bike, the town
got rid of its trash again until an officious policeman asked him if he had a licence
for this he didn't and it was confiscated. Now he had a jute sack slung on his proud
shoulders and a walking stick with a nail attached, a weapon a police officer said
he was carrying a weapon in public and he was prosecuted. He didn't show up
to the hearing and when the law came around, he hung from a rafter sometimes
even serious optimists give up and with no cleaner the town sank into misery,
plagued by vermin the population fled, a town given into paper napkins pizza boxes
and burger wrappers and the poor who had nowhere to go. And if this reflects
the life of a typical inner city of our English speaking world it is purely incidental.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
1
In this dark, cruel and callous world
it’s optimists ar’ always good to me -
they lend me a thousand dollars
and when I don’t return
they don’t get discouraged
they convince themselves I’ll pay up soon
“Tomorrow,” they nod sagaciously
Yeah, tomorrow
And even when they get mad and furious
all I have to do is to offer them half a glass
2
To ‘em optimists
I’m full of gratitude
cos when I ‘s a kid
and skinned their cats
and stole their lawn mowers
and silverware
and put them up for sale in the same
street
they stood agape and said:
“This kid, one day he’ll be a great entrepreneur”
3
I love optimists
cos even though my parents cursed
“We never really wanted you”;
and my wife confesses every other night:
*“I married you for all the stolen money
and will dump you
and claim half of every dollar and property”;*
and my kids keep pestering me:
*“When will you die?
Have you written your will?”* -
optimists tell me:
*“The universe loves you;
reach out, and the universe reaches out to you”*
Hey, you get more love from strangers
than from family
4
And of course
let me not forget Destiny’s plan
for optimists in my life
cos even after the fourth ******
for which I was found guilty
(never mind the six undiscovered)
the optimists in the legal system and
Friends of the Maladjusted
got me out in seven-a-weeks, with the hope:
*” This time, surely, he will change
for the better”*
Ah, what’ll I do without ‘em optimists? -
bless ‘em all, and keep ‘em alive
for I’m planning my next killing
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
The ace of hearts
sat down at the table
feeling oh so confident
stares at the three of spades
in his pocket
While the king of diamonds
eyes his diamond queen
in his mind
the ten
hides behind the jack
The queens figured
tonight was the night
they were going to get laid
The deuces were quietly weeping
wondering if another deuce
on the table was going to be played
The ace of hearts
his heart was racing
as the ace of spades
made its way
followed by the ace of diamonds
and a diamond three
a rare drop
was all he could say.
The king of diamonds
to his court he smiled
as the deuce of diamonds
sparkled on the table
The queens, they trembled
wondered if the only thing getting laid
was their heads on the chopping block
this day
The third deuce had joined the pair
his heart was lifted
but still in despair
the deuces looked down the river forlornly
Many have lost it all for more
The ace of hearts was feeling cocky
a warm fullness washed over him
he looked out at his life
figured all he could do was win
he believed in love
sometimes you gotta go
all in
he smiled as he waited at the dock of the river
The king still flushed with diamonds galore
their sparkles blinded him
he joined the ace in the fog
it was either this or that
there were no more games to play
Now faced with two endings
which path to take
The queens had
had enough
on the table they folded
into a fatal swoon
Three deuces
he wavered
his hands were trembling
the game ain't over until
the rent money is gone
Gamblers
some are optimists
some are realists
some are looking for salvation
some are going to play
until they have no more left to pay
looking for death, so they say
driven by compulsions rage
all ask the question
is
this a streak or a slump?
Which was the deuces on this day?
The optimist joins the fray
The realist he folds goes on home to play another day,
All pray.
On your playing field
so far away
what is the play?
Which are you today?
As many endings
as there are
combinations of cards
sometimes it even rains frogs
The room was quiet
the aces full
the king flushing
three deuces - waiting
what to do?
I guess I am the optimist today
the sun is shining after five days of rain
A distant sight
down the river came
as the two of clubs
was beating the water's edge
running and laughing
all the way.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
If it wasn't for the pessimist
What would the optimist do
They'd have no earthly idea
What was needed to pull through
Or the gravity of the situation
And how to handle it best
Without the negative of the pessimist
What would fill the optimists head
Without the doom and gloom of the pessimist
Positive would be a lost cause
My best guess is that the optimist
Needs the pessimist after all
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Keeping with the wedding theme of today.
The ***** swells as bellows fill.
The wedding march begins to play.
The bride is beautiful in white
All eyes attend her on her day..
He in black Tuxedo waits,
With the best man and the priest.
..
A pledge, a promise and a vow.
A ring , a kiss, a camera pose.
Two optimists race down the aisle
What fate awaits them?
God only knows!
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
It's the optimists that I can't bear
Chinese skin farms torture for a
Collection of innocent flesh and hair
Look on the brighter side of it, bud!
As your lie writhing in a stinking pile
Of naked muscle and pooling blood
The little girl whose teeth are smashed
Whose daddy has relapsed
And sold her as a piece of ***
To be ****** over and over for some cash
So that he can buy his ****** crack
And bleed his veins for a dwindled stash
The starving owl-eyed boy who
Believes himself evil for the thought of
Turning his little brother into his next meal
And not even a little left to steal
As ribcages tell a thousand tales
Along lines of skin and bone so frail
So **** your rhyme schemes
And your bleeding heart activists
Who scream in college courts
And completely lack the knack of it
Skin them alive and burn them as well
And maybe they'd have given their
Very souls to the fires of hell
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
All of us have one thing in common
We all have dreams and desires
It's what makes us humanity
Different from other organisms; unique
Dreamers are optimists
Clinging onto their vibrant visions
Through turmoil and hardship
Through chaos and pain
Their souls are held tightly with their dreams
Our aspirations help us get through the present
Whilst Making glamorous plans for the future;
Some plan to revolutionise the world
Whilst others dream of singular success
No dream is too big or small
It all depends on the eye of the beholder
Yet one thing is no doubt crystal clear
Any dream you work for will come true
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
Begin the ****** battle
Bouncing bullets between brain and vein
Trenches dugged in heart
Barbed wire surrounds damaged parts
Roaring war rages on
Pouring bloodshed in every artery
Aorta keeps pumping
New oxygenated soldiers
But they are soon dead
And their bodies flow back to the heart.
All in name of the superpowers
They do not care of the hours spent
the shower of bullets used
They simple oppose one another
Desires to dispose the other.
Left vs Right
with no end in sight
Each write their demands
Compromising is not an option
So the war continues on
and the body suffers.
You begin to forget about hope
presume the cadet is missing in action
No body to exhume though
you must resume the war
and worry about hope later
If there is one.
As you begin to feel the ware and tear.
Noone is aware of the internal bruising
Missiles cruises, capillaries blown to bits
Military chivalry shivers in this civil war
The cavalries only misery delivery
is that of the dead peasantry.
History's favourite victim.
Without hope, the rope tempts
Only preempts what's to come.
It would take an uprising
for peace to return.
But there is no need for revolutionary force
to win this war.
As the organs are still functionary
A beat, no matter how faint, is still a beat.
and in the pulmonary vein,
that train to the heart,
the optimists are rewarded with an armistrice
and peace breaks out like lil' flamin' poppies
swaying in the breeze lining the battleground
After all the damage done
something pretty survived
and bloomed in spring as a reminder
That even in the lowest part of your history
When war consumes you
inhaling the fumes of
desperation, humiliation
and pain poisons your core
leaving your thoughts sore
and the rope serpent tempts
All is not lost.
Hope can still be seen
can still break the surface and grow.
It has always retained the same purpose.
Just like when Pandora opened her box
and let out all the misery in the world.
One thing remained.
Hope.
There is always hope.
Wars will end.
Time passes
Poppies grow.
You gotta keep believing
Stop deceiving yourself that leaving is best.
You gotta have hope.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
a fog of uncertainty
or mist of opportunity
discouragement of the fearful
passion of the pathfinders
boredom of the erudite
opportunity of the ready
despair of the overcome
pride of the calm conqueror
crumbling of the thoughtless
savvy of the thinker
rebellion of restless seas
wisdom of the calmer waters
coarseness of the unmodified rocks
refinement of a rare diamond sage
repeating dirge of the pessimists
excitement of the optimists
shock of the confronted
pragmatism of the realists
dissatisfaction of the takers
fulfillment's flame in the givers
empty shell of the ever selfish
and balm of those who
to the bewildered
smile kindness
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 12:30 PM UTC
Do you think you're better off alone?
When the ceiling of a ***** room
Is the night sky and stars and
You're getting comfortable in late night gloom.
.
I'd hate to go home alone but I never left my bed.
.
What's worth the air in your lungs today?
Is it the people you forgot to keep in touch with
Or the helpless yearning for something
Or the life you remember you used to miss.
.
I smoke cigarettes for the warmth in my lungs
And the burn in my throat
Like one thousand bright suns.
.
You could've been vulnerable and explained that
You'd **** for an hour with warm arms around you
And a listening ear, and ****** movies on Netflix
And that cry you refused to allow yourself to do.
.
If any less of a **** was given about your problems
The whole world would be constipated
Permanently.
.
I could've pretended awkward hands in the dead of night
Meant true love, meant something, meant, at least, mutual 'like'.
But denials' for people who don't think so much
And thinkings' my best ally and my worst crutch.
.
You should take hold of your life today, get up, do something
But this bed is safe, this bed is familiar for the ambition-less
And you're the only one who shat there
So sleep in it.
.
The futures' only bright for optimists and I'd never be accused of that.
.
When I'm getting tired of wrapping a lack of feeling
Into precise stanzas, lines, and rhymes
Maybe I'll figure out what I've been rambling on about
Stand up, and live my life.
.
Eenie, meanie, miney, mo
What the **** is life good for
I'll trade you a penny, you give me a dime
And we're all still running on borrowed time.
.
You're too tired to sleep today; three more and you won't wake up.
.
This is the end, I've picked out a date
Got everything planned out, no one's awake, no one can stop me.
Wait. I chickened out, missed it again, failed like the failure I am.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
.
Isolation's only fun for the people with nothing better to do.
.
There's no good way to end something that began badly.
I should remember that
It's a good line
Almost proverbial.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
A vessel with some water,
The proverbial impasse.
‘Tis often seen half empty,
Yet it seems a half full glass.
Who drank the last swallow from the half full glass?
Is optimism on the brink?
Will our pessimistic present pass?
So we can fill the glass and drink!
For all in optimistic camp
Can we insure the world's survival?
Can we, other gloomy souls revamp;
Stage a miracle revival?
Like a prophet or evangelist
Laying hands upon the crowd
A leper’s lips, once shunned, now kissed,
A beggar not too proud
To ask the rich to share some love
Or a grain of understanding.
Would manna, sent from Heav’n above
Restore belief in those demanding
Proof. A sign or something else
To kindle hope and quench the fear
That our half full glass has shattered
And the end is drawing near.
And for those who suffer in the dark
Is Armageddon on its way?
Has the Devil gone and lit the spark
That precedes our judgment day?
There are cops committing ******
And crazies killing cops
Are the pessimists so positive
That the killing will not stop?
What then, could be life’s purpose
For those who have this view?
It seems that all the pessimists
Are a suicidal crew.
Is there then a cure for pessimists?
Or are they the smarter folk?
Are the optimists so blind
They cannot see the joke?
For what, if not a joke
Is a world without control
Did God put all he had on ‘odd’
And then say, “Let’r roll!?”
Every gambler has a system
‘Guaranteed to win’
God says, “Goodness conquers evil
Compassion conquers sin.”
But is His system failing,
As the pessimists believe?
Should we all fold, throw in our cards
Rise from our chairs and leave?
While the optimists are calling
Saving wealth they cannot spend
For you cannot take it with you
When you finally reach the end.
I have not the answer,
Though I’d opt for Half Full Glass
I want to believe in something
That gives us half a chance.
But speak out loud ye poets
If you think the same or not.
All entitled to a voice.
Our voice is all we’ve really got.
A vessel with some water,
The proverbial impasse.
‘Tis often seen half empty,
Yet it seems a half full glass.
Phil Lindsey 4/20/15
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC