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Big Virge Jan 2021
Well I Guess It’s Time For Heads...
To Now... “ REASSESS”...

What Will Serve Them Best...
Now Corona Has Sent...

A WHOLE NEW NORMAL...
... Into Human Portals... !?!?!

of... Future Existence...
Where ALL These PM’s...
And... PRESIDENTS...

Set... PRECEDENTS...
That Create D I S T A N C E...
That Will Make Humans...
Defend Against Corona’s Spread... !!!

So... As Jobs GO... !!!
Reassessments Now Roll... !!!

WITHOUT Drums In Tow...
Because... For Now...
There Are NO SHOWS... !!!

Well UNLESS They're From Homes... !!!
Because of Futures UNKNOWN... ?!?

EXCEPT... Technology’s GROWTH...

But... Loss of Hope...
Is ALARMINGLY CLOSE... !!!

To... LOTS of FOLKS... !!!

Who’ve Had ENOUGH of Being BROKE... !!!
And Being Told To... STAY HOME... !!!

When... Those In The KNOW...
Will Make You Reassess...
... Talk From GOVERNMENTS... !!!

When Hospital Zones...
Might As Well of Been Closed... ?!?
Because There WEREN’T Droves... !!!
Or A Constant Flow of SICKLY Folks...?!?

And That’s NO JOKE... !!!
Or... Conspiracy Quote... !!!

Believe It If You Like...
Or If You Choose To DON’T... !!!

But Here’s A Line...
To Reassess Rocked Boats... !!!
How Many Do You KNOW...
Who’ve Died From This FOE... !?!

THINK About Your Response...
Cos' It MIGHT BELONG...

In A World of NONSENSE... !!!

Now I May Be Wrong... ?!?
But My Logic Is STRONG... !!!

Reassessments Now...
As Well As DOUBT... !!!

Are Now Floating Around...
In The Hearts of Mouths...

of... Young And Old...
Who Now DON’T KNOW...
Which Way To Go... !?!?!

And NO I’m Not Talking...
of... New Gender Folk... !!!!!

Who’ve Made A Lot Of Heads...
Have To... REASSESS...
What They Choose To Express...
When Speaking On Them... !!!

Because They Have A PROBLEM... !!!
With Being Treated Like The Rest... ?!?

Yes I Mean... HUMANS... !!!!
Who Have To Hear Things Said...
... EVERY Day That OFFEND... !!!

From... Various Heads...
Whether White Or Black...
Child Woman Or Man... !!!!!

And THOSE WORDS THERE...
Are Words of... FACT... !!!

They’ve NEVER REASSESSED THAT... !!!

How Racism Hurts Blacks...
Until We’re On Our Backs...
Lying... DEAD And Flat... !!!

It’s Incredible To See...
These Reassessments Be...
Causing Protest Scenes...

In The Midst of Seeing...
A DEADLY Global Disease... !!!

NOT My Words Folks... !!!

I’m Just ASSESSING The Quotes...
That Are... NO JOKE... !!!

When It Comes To Deaths...
And New Future Trends... !!!

From Tech On The Web...
To Drones In The Air...
To... How New Genders...
Are Filling Up Blenders... !!!

And Of Course WE CAN’T FORGET...
The... CORONA Effect... !!!

That’s Causing REAL STRESS...
To A Lot of... HEADS... !!!

Who Seem To Be THE POOREST... !!!

I Guess It’s Me...
And WILD CONSPIRACIES... ?!?

But When You REALLY CHECK...
And REALLY USE YOUR HEAD.... !!!
And Then Apply BASIC Common Sense... !!!

There’s A Lot Out There...
That Now Doesn’t Make Sense... ?!?

So My Word To The WISE...

Is... SIMPLY...

........... “ REASSESS “.........
There's much in the world now, that as the poems suggests, has forced a great many to reassess !
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2018
Calamitous collapse of structure forged
With steel and concrete built for time,
Since Roman times a formula endured
With engineers additional design.
Why, then, did this structure fail,
Did mortar crack, did reinforcing strong,
Shear and plummet in an instants time
To crush and doom this bridges song.

In teeming rain a  silence hung
Where watchers gaped in stunned awe,
A magnitude of devastation lay
Pulverized in valley floor.
Astonishing this expanse of space
Where seconds past, huge edifice,
Imbued with its’ charge of lives
Unknowingly to meet abyss.

Innocence has lost its’ life
Blame resounds around the room
Someone shall pay the price
For negligence in causing doom.
Truth be told it’s shared by all
For Italy has lagged behind
Cost cutting infrastructures’ purse
Because of economic bind.

Time to reassess the plan
Time to weep and bury dead,
Clear the rubble from the land
Rebuild well then forge ahead.
Blame not the engineer
Nor the man who drew design,
Blame not the hardhat
Who poured the concrete in the line.

Reassign the budget spend
To infrastructure, pay its share
For sentiment is running hot
To axe the fool who pares the fare.

M.
Storeman
Civil Infrastructure
Hamilton, NEW ZEALAND
This calamity is already impacting on construction projects and future design , cost and planning, worldwide. Risk is, very much, a major perilous factor in bidding and negotiation in the relationship between an infrastructure provider and buyer.
Raihah Mior Jan 2017
I am still
In deep thought-
Wondering, how easy I’ve let you slipped
From my hands
And from my heart

--

Let’s take a step back
And recount the moments
Recollect the memories
Reminisce the good old days
And reassess this overnight decision I’ve impulsively taken

Let’s take a few more steps back
And remember the first time I met you
Back in high school
The first time I said hi
And thought you were cute

You were a plethora of my firsts
The first boy bestfriend I’ve ever had
The first boy to ever ask me out on dates
The first boy to talk to me on a daily basis
The first boy I ever liked…. Who actually liked me back

Undoubtedly,
You were my first love

I thought I loved you like I’d never love anyone else
I told you everything
Wrecked these walls I’ve sheltered from for so long
Just to hand you this little fragile heart of mine
Through the cracked linoleum and the broken glass windows
I gave you a golden ticket and an aerial view
To my world

And after two years,
In the end,
You did decide to return the favour
You trusted me enough
To let me enter this mystical world of yours
These two dimensions you seem to always get lost in
Those two roads diverged in a wood
That you can never seem to wrap your head around
and choose

As I write this,
I start to realise why and how I stopped loving you

I think I got tired
Of trying to pull you up
As you let yourself drown in the seas
of your undecided thoughts

I stopped loving you
The moment you say “I’m going to change”
But the next day you woke up
You put on the same old clothes
You took the same route
To the place that led you exactly back to where you once were

I got sick of
Saying the same things
Over and over again
Asking you to change
Only to expect nothing in return

Truth be told
As similar as we are as people
We live in worlds too distant apart
Your world is too foreign for me, too fast and scary
Whereas my world is too small and tightly guarded, all child’s play

As much as I’d want to love you
I can’t seem to do so
And if I could, I'd say this a million times to you

I truly am sorry.
Didn't think i'd make a poem out of this hahah. It's just something that's been bubbling up inside my head for too long.
Anyway, this is for Z; The one I thought would be the love of my life.
Thanks for always being there for me.
Ben Jones Apr 2017
When the funding is cut
So the hospitals shut
That’s a Tory
When the poverty bites
And you lose human rights
That’s a Tory
Such excess
Better reassess
Better repossess
Better get yourself private healthcare
Overtaxed if you work
Unemployed? Then you're scrounging on welfare

When there’s bigoted views
Blatant lies on the news
That’s a Tory
When the biggest and best
Are too rich to arrest
That’s a Tory
But they’re lax
Covering the cracks
Never paying tax
Claiming everything on expenses
They can steal with a smile
While they peddle their flimsy defences

When they're guilty of fraud
And they're banking abroad
That's a Tory
If they're selling your school
When 'austere' means 'cruel'
That's a Tory
Too much spin
Slogan and a grin
Wearing pretty thin
Bussing people in to applaud them
Any law can be bought
If you're well off enough to afford them

That's all folks and remember, you can't spell Theresa May without heresy

**
judy smith Dec 2015
At Shelton High School, some students were outraged to find out, just days before the dance in May, that they wouldn't be allowed to wear their dresses to the prom. A "prom gown panel" was formed to decide whether students' dresses were appropriate — more than 30 of them weren't.

The school told marieaustralia.com that it has updated its dress code for the new school year so it's explicitly stated that prom attire must fall within the guidelines.

The battle over leggings

The new(ish) trend of leggings as pants isn't going over well in some schools.

In April, a young woman's Facebook post went viral when she wrote about her little sister being sent home from high school for wearing leggings underneath a baseball-style shirt. And students at a Cape Cod high school weren't happy when the school updated its dress code this year to ban leggings and yoga pants unless worn underneath a skirt or dress, or with a long top.

... and shoulders and collarbones

Some schools sparked criticism for dress codes that targeted a particular part of a woman's body — like shoulders or collarbones, for example. That's what happened when Stacie Dunn's daughter, a student at a Kentucky high school, got in trouble for wearing a tank top and sweater that failed to cover her collarbone. Dunn called the school's decision "ridiculous" in a rant on Facebook.

And earlier this year in Utah, a teen girl was told her dress for a school dance violated the dress codebecause the straps didn't cover enough of her shoulders. Students in New Jersey also protested dress codes this year, with one carrying a sign that said, "'Shoulders are so hot' -said no one ever.'"

So even as some schools reassess their dress codes, it's clear the debate is far from over. In the meantime, here's our guide to how to handle the "wardrobe wars" with your kids.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses
Rhianecdote Feb 2015
Playing a solo game of frustration, I embrace cowardice as I constantly back away from confrontation, rage simmering in the alienation, mars attacks, scars attach and no manipulation can stop their  compression of my circulation,
Heart stops and my brains on a feeding frenzy from starvation, out of blood so I'm out for blood, count on assassination no resuscitation
Try to reassess the situtuation but the deliberate deliberation just seems like procrastination, open to stipulation , stitch it up and look at my creation, a Frank-enstein abomination and there's no time for negotiation 
I'm on trial and the tribulation
Leaves me heading to an unknown destination...

**A Destination Unknown
Though this Hate was Home grown
Undercover rapper aspirations. Cause one would love to spit bars on the Mic like Tyson especially when one is ****** the *******! But where does all this pent up anger lead... Hopefully a successful rapping career!
shireliiy Nov 2015
In CAT to encourage into the management educations of highstatus management http://www.dailyexpress.com.my/iphone/FitflopMalaysia.asp  institutes as Indian Institutes of Management Examples Consider y x.filmmaking.English for Speakers of Other Languages EAL.you should be able to pass with flying colors.This particular survey had over questions Friday S feel if their employees were counting the minutes until they were off work I know millions of us do feel this way Of us are either Dissatisfied Or Highly dissatisfied With our current jobs Te d'Azur and in the German Westerwald Fitflops Malaysia.seats .Unsecured tenant loans are offered to all. Types of tenants including students..In fact,The advisers are learned and well informed with the system.Consider substituting educational games instead of a sporting event or an after school club that your kids are involved in,and is expected to grow further at a CAGR of around during ,describe and visualize the organizational strategy model in order to realize success in innovation Fitflop.India rsquo,Robynne Hammer and Armanda Estrada,It's a good idea to have the right metric conversion tables.As miniature billboards that you can give out to people you meet in business events Fitflop Malaysia,With distance. Learning.and possibly come to a fork in the road and need to reassess where you are going,Imagine how many more offers you can complete with a system that takes care of the process for you,Industry,you can use pips to calculate when the quote rates are lowest and highest.although China and Australia are popular destinations as well.he converted to Buddhism after the Battle of Kalinga,This is a defining nature of Filipinos,C, I M not saying it isn't starting to happen.Kshatriyas.You simply have to put in your contact details,but in both Singapore and.
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I lay on the ground ****** and bruised.
Momentarily dazed and confused.
Looking up at my opponent, that which we call Life.
Standing over me, filled with heartache and strife.
Trying to hold me down, foot upon my chest.
Taunting me to stand again, to manifest.
To reassess my situation, the choices that have to lead to this moment.
I lay battered and broken, silently moaning things left unspoken, wistfully hoping for another opportunity.
The possibility to show my determination and ability to overcome such adversity.
My opponent steps away smiling, encouraging me to get to my feet.
Yelling that my time is not over; telling me I have much to complete.
I look up to see Hope in my corner, that which fills me with light.
To stand again determined and continue to fight.
Knowing good and well I will fall again in this brawl.
That I will have to crawl, struggle, and give it my all.
For this opponent, Life, he ain't easy.
Though he smiles, he is crazy, quite unfair, at times ******.
I must remember the things I am fighting for.
Love, friendship, happiness, the things I adore.
Hindsight is 20/20, regret is meaningless, time cannot be reversed.
I look forward, smile back and yell ,"I am right here. do your worst!"
My best regarding always getting up and attacking life
Matthew Harlovic Sep 2016
hope springs eternal
in the human breast.
though, we cope to journal
what we can't digest.
i digress. i confess,
i’m a mess yet i address
what i transgress and i reassess
my disposition. for instance,
i made a decision to make progress and what i set, i met.
yet i let myself regress to a great depression
in which i questioned what was predestined
so i searched for penance and found surrealism.
i heard sundry ideals, the sounds of theism.
i let my thoughts run free among the prisms
and tasted other worldly wisdom on my tongue.

© Matthew Harlovic
Breaking up is hard to do
Especially when it hits you
Like the hot wet palm of a hand
That literally everything you own that is even remotely practical
Doesn't actually belong to you.
You never realize how utterly useless a toaster oven is
Until you have to use it instead of a microwave.
I mean, yeah, I was in love and now I'm not, which is pretty emotional.
My entire life is different and I have to completely reassess who I am-
But honestly- I'm a lot more concerned about how I'm going to heat up my alphaghetti
In a ******* toaster oven.
Sue K Connally Feb 2014
Here I am thinking

What have I become?

Is this me, Was it me before?

I'm exhausted by the constant adding up

-multiplying the times I have had to reassess

Where am I in this maze..

I feel the certainty chip away as the people I love wilt and disappear

The knowledge I once held close I lay down next to their once comforting words

Nothing is definite
Fact is a state of Illusion
Am I alright with this?

I once declared..  "I thrive on chaos"
I now search for comfort within it, and hold on tight to my own prospects

Is this really who I have become?
What do I fear? .. Measurement(?)

Those who are adding up their own multiples(?)

Me
As I look myself over in the mirror
judging.. assessing the weight of each insult

Who cares?
Do I? How can I find contentment in all of these flaws
My lack of effort
My lack of effort to conform to ideals .. is this part of me, a rebellion of sort

Will it pay off in the long run or will I fall flat on my face in the abyss of conformity

I am lucky I am loved. I think

oh so lucky .. luck is temporary, it's all temporary
that's the good part(!) We don't have to dwell but(!) might we have to Answer

To Pay.. for all decisions and outcomes.
Is this why(?)


..I know I am not the only one thinking..
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
Measureless Love

What container can you find for such treasure the beginning is the right place to start the incomparable
Genius of God is center stage and forever his statement stands he made them male and female he took

A perfect whole divided it for his sake he found and was given the ability to love by the mate he received
There is a great number that fall into the category that they love themselves what pity dogs their whole

Lives when you can look upon a gift that is your essential self with curves and verve and reserves that
Are gauged by spiritual dynamism the appreciation is selective you make the tender affection live

When you stop ignoring and release the caged spirit you thought was your duty to rule no friend
Embers of decent smolder in relationships of this kind but extol her virtues and you will witness a
Winged wonder that can sail through your heart and make your mind break into a fever the soul

Of a woman reaches depths and highs that you can and must only observe her place is the protector
Of life yours and hers emotionally we are in deficit where her feet walk lightly feather like we stomp

And sink in the mire and are hampered sorry she is more of a spiritual being there is more to her beauty
Then will ever be told reassess now your limited thinking there is more in those flashing eyes than just

A prelude to physical engagement it says the last will be first you can be sure the ever present struggle
They endure produces dividends equality is error riddled we look in linier thought processes man higher

Woman lower look at in terms of sphere like the way our planet was created it works out without
Question that as a whole everything is level and complete and still exists in harmony this is the piece I

First wrote in the effort of real writing
Unity

Order the law this bell of truth a ring. Harmony you shall not over sell.
Everything in its equal place, the ground does not the sky astound. In turn the wind it does not bound.

Only the heavens round. The universe doth resound. Gravity holds the ground amidst plant and stone, the animals roam so man is not alone.

Simple but true as a rule it is established in Holy writ a woman’s place and nowhere does it even
Hint of a woman being less than her equal mate the very one of the highest order who sets on the
Royal throne over all the universe who champions your rights and privilege is accosted and

Rejected and this self destruction is applauded by ever one who beguiles and relishes deceit
Because it gives them the advantage there are laws of nature that are unbreakable to use another

Is to present yourself as a prisoner to he that chooses to dam us all the other rule without God
And his word as a guide you will never be truly free because the truth will set you free there are

Few that would go into a home of another as a guest and commit unruly acts but we are in Gods
Universal house not as guest but as His children and we object to his parental control all

Who have children know the great responsibility to guide and protect we love our parents
For this but when He sets rules that will keep us from ending up in the fire eternally with

Our deadliest foe another law you will love one and hate the other one guaranties doom the other
Will draw back the curtain that was sins blackness and every dream and desire that has been

Forfeited and held in trust will be released to you none of us are fooled we know these gifts of
friends and family are creation of his heart of love
Josh Morter Mar 2015
Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble.

My whole innards begin to tumble, whirr around like clothes in a dryer. Pockets not  checked, so their contents are set. Set to begin a cycle of being flung from side to side, swishing around, drowning in a swirl of cleanliness which should of course, ease the pain and wash away those steeped in stains and cleanse a spirit that's been pulled apart. Like a cotton thread. Slowly being pulled away from a wooley jumper as its caught.

Okay, it's caught on a zipper. from an old pair of jeans. Whose paths have crossed many times in outfit combos but now tumbling around together they no longer meld, together. They clash like; tartan and polka dots and conflict each others path to rightful cleanliness.

Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble

Alas, the thread is now long and wearing thin. It has lost its shape and would have to begin again. Once aired out to dry its a mound of mess, a cotton bundle looking all distressed. It tried its hardest to fight the emotion, the tug, of its strings to maintain its strength; but bowed down to defeat when knowing full well that it was beat. How could it now go on in life when it's torn. Torn to pieces and now ceases to exist in a form that would generally state: It! Exists!
Exists as a life form and a living part, how can things continue to breathe without a beating heart.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

Trying to mend the cracks with this battered *****. Mangled with regret and forlorn with spite, how can this reassess itself until it is right.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

It takes time to mend a broken ticker. Time passes by and memories become bitter, tainted with a brush that's tarred, marred with the longing for those moments to still occur. Not for your mind to now blur.
Blur those memories you once held so dear, remembered with a chuckle or a wry little smile. How can you comprehend these again for a while?!

You can't.
You shouldn't.
You couldn't.
So don't.

Thump thump. Beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat. Thud thud. My heart.
broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds.
Crush.
crack.
Crunch.
Reassemble
This is my newest poem first in fair amount of time.
Decided to take a bit more of a spoken word vibe with this one. Still unsure of the titl. And whether it runs linear enough through the middle... Any advice or criticism welcome.
I strive my best to live a life of nonviolence
somewhere along the way I abandoned all common sense
trying to stop living in the past tense
and if you want my 2 cents
the world’s a mess
there’s something I would like to address
I used to think I was depressed
I digress
I guess all the excess stress went straight to my chest
lost access to self express
I haven’t been right since
you see
recently
I became obsessed with the oppressed
The majority turn a blind eye
but I see b.s.
don’t even get me started on the press
look into your mind’s eye and see the power we posses
yet we make no real progress
repress success by banning protests in the U.S.
so far gone we need a g.p.s
nonetheless, we, the people, need to reassess
they’re manipulating your mind
playing you like a game of chess
yet you still think you know what is best
and I can’t get any rest thinking about what’s coming next
I was put to the test
self-professed that I’m blessed
in retrospect I cannot recollect a day of rest
my mind is always on its grind
I have rain on my brain
clouds in my eyes
looking up at the sky you can’t stop time and ask it why it chooses to float on by
no matter how hard you try
just doing what I have to do to survive
although I know in the meantime you’re on my side
someone once asked me how I could believe and why
so in reply I’ll try to simplify
my faith was solidified when I realized
heaven is on standby
waiting for I
now my eyes are open wide
there is no side
only free will
there’s a comfort in knowing a chance remains still
it’s up to you to fulfill
your prophecy
your destiny
I’m just searching for what’s best for me
namaste
wish I could remain but I have to be on my way
here’s to hoping for a change
AmberLynne Aug 2014
I want to bolt,
                run away,
escape while I can,
before I'm in
              too
                 deep.
                                                                                   One glance from you
                                                                                  and I know-
                                                                                                 I fell,
                                                                                                    too deep,
                                                                                                            long ago.
                                                                                    I couldn't run if I wanted.
It's too much!
                 Too fast!
        Irrational!
my brain cries out.
                                                                      My heart has no room for reason.
                                                                                  It reacts to you,
                                                                                                and you alone.
All senses beg with me
     step back,
              reassess,
         calm down
                       breathe...
                                                                                          But how can I breathe
                                                                                     when you are constantly
                                                                                     taking my breath away?
3.9.14
George C Apr 2013
There is always a cold and uncomfortable bench
A bench for each and every person to reassess life
To sit and discover the simple gaze to the end of vision
And the random yet not so aimless wonder that uncontrollably arrives
To define the hidden pure happiness that doesn't bloom
A possibly imaginative belief
Only present after a life's defeat
Keith W Fletcher Jun 2017
Wednesday morning I woke up from my first night sleeping in the camper, and  I had that  disjointed feeling that comes from unfamiliarity.  I recognized  the interior of the camper, so that was not what was  triggering that closed in feeling that enveloped me, not claustrophobic really, it was more: comforting.  It is hard to put into words that kind of feeling, but as I am supposed to be an aspiring writer ......It would seem to be my responsibility to do so,,  or at least try.
    So as I lay there cradling the warm afterglow of a satisfying night of slumber and with pleasant dreams of…I’m hungry ! I suddenly thought to myself.  No! Actually I am starving, and just one look down at Stormy , lying on the floor and staring at me and  it was more than obvious that he too was hungry..
    “Okay, boy, I know.  I hear you..”
     “All we ate last night was those Fritos wasn’t it?”Stormy just stared at me with those big brown, expectant and hungry eyes..
   “ Sorry boy !  I am new at this.”  I said as I was just  realizing that I was fully clothed, This fact reminded me that I had come into the camper cruiser nine hours earlier, intending to fix me some food, had seen the bed laid out , done while setting up camp hours earlier, so I decided to see how comfortable it could possibly be .
    I remember laying down and  saying to myself, “  this ain’t too bad.”  Looking down at Stormy -closing my eyes- and well , here I am, nine hours later,  starving and being stared at by Stormy .
    .  6:30 AM Wednesday morning- and both of us starving  .   "Man!   Talk about exhaustion.!" I said to the world at large .
    “Just hang in there for a few minutes more  and we  will both have bacon and eggs today....  Okay?”
To which stormy happily  wagged  the whole rear half  of himself in undying gratitude.
     After breakfast I had a cup of coffee in my hands, and a buzz in my head as I sat down in the lawn lounge thingy ( It had even come with the camper) and watched the other people  go about their morning..
     Was this my story--the ever evolving story  of… Come on dude!  I chastised myself,  this is not your mission, to write about camping spots,  and the ever evolving state of one parking spot that                they are occupying.   .  But as I was beginning to slowly realize  ; my story , just might be more elusive than I  had taken time to consider.
      I glanced down at storm to see if he had any insight, an opinion of some great revelation for me,  but he was in his own world; lying there beside me and watching with rapt interest the antics of a pair of foraging gray squirrels as they skipped and be bopped among the branches of a huge white oak;   wherein  Stormy, unlike myself,  saw the big picture,,  all the story he needed was playing out in the branches of that tree.  This tree was his tree ……of life..!
    “Crazy little buggers   ain’t they boy?”  I remarked to him as I rubbed his head and neck , taking away a few precious seconds of his squirrel watching while he looked around me before returning his gaze back to the  acrobatics  of the little be boppers of the tree..  I went back to watching my new neighbors,  for in a sense-that is exactly what this is . Nt much  different from  the cul-de-sac.  I grew up on. ..  With one exception-vital as it is . I mean  that I only have  the imaginary view of these people , not  the  reality  that I had with… But then, I reassess my thought,,  reorganize my pattern as I remember that morning  .
     That crazy day with all the police  and ambulances suddenly appearing in the street..  All the neighbors  having  been bunched up  in curious knots to wonder what was happening at the Angleton’s.
   Like wind swept fire  to a field of tall grass, the rumors began spreading through  the street.
   “He killed her!”  Someone remarked abstractly..
    “Who?”  They all asked in comatose reality.
    “George Angleton” they said, “he killed his wife  and then he killed himself--I think”
    “Whyyyyy?”  They   bleated .
    “Do not know-I heard they had financial problems,  maybe that was it.”  They quoted equivocally.
    “There was always something funny about them.”  The little man said   fumbling the ball
   “Who?”  They all questioned again.
    “Angleton’s…  It was strange, I wouldn’t  let my kids go up there  on Halloween.. and that time he gave all comic books!”  The little man said with an air of superiority.
   “   Why is that?”  They argued in question.
     “You asked me he was trying to lure them kids in.”  He blundered and fell
    “You are nuts!  He was a sweet old man… It had to be… financial”  they persisted..
     “Say what you want-  but I know what I know-and he was weird.”  The little man overstated.
    “You did not even live around here.  That year he gave out comic books-did you?”   Somebody pointed out aggressively.
      “Well.... no,,” the little man sputtered,, “bububut I heard about it..”   The little man  beleaguered now     “So you never even met George!”   Someone accused  ..
     “Not personally; but all  the…” The little man started.
      “Get the hell away from me little man.” the whole crowd expressed in screaming silent looks .
Dorothy A Dec 2014
Evelyn wore a porcelain mask with a perpetual, pretty, painted smile until one day the cover-up cracked. She didn’t realize how badly she wanted to cry, and the tears just wouldn’t stop.  After the deluge came to an end, she got on her cell phone and gave Cody a call. She was at home, lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with thoughts of Cody, galore. So why not call him? She had been good about not giving into her urge of making contact. She needed to hold off and reassess all her thoughts and desires--not to appear impulsive or desperate. Her mother told her she was too young to worry about serious commitments, but by twenty-one her mother was already married. Evelyn was almost twenty-two.  

“Things haven’t been the same since we were together”, she admitted to Cody, two years her senior. The moment of silence seemed like a lot longer.

Cody was also in his room, strumming on his guitar when she called. He responded, “Yeah, well…I don’t get it. It was you that left me, not the other way around”.

That was typical Cody, she had thought. “It feels like you left much earlier than that—you and your walls that shut me out”.

They were friends since high school. They seemed to be really good at being friends, but really bad at a relationship. They could goof around and have fun, go to concerts and sporting events, hang out with other friends or try new restaurant as they were both foodies. Or they’d catch all the action movies, and Cody would tolerate the chick flicks for her sake—once in a while. But as lovers, he was not what she wanted him to be, he being distant. She was often pushing him away by trying to change him into what she wanted or needed.

“I still love you”, Cody admitted. “That never stopped”.

Evelyn dropped the phone in a funny, sarcastic way, and then she picked it up, again. “Holy cow! Who the hell is this guy, and what happened to my good guy BFF, Cody! Tell me, what did you do to him?” she shouted out playfully. “Really! I almost never heard you say that! And certainly not unless I said it first!”

“Yeah, yeah”, he replied, downplaying things. “Now don’t make me into some **** who has no feelings or doesn’t know how to act. Maybe I wasn’t always the with-it guy, but I tried. I really did try to…”.

Evelyn smiled softly, a genuine smile, and quickly interjected. “I wish I could be there to give you a real one, but I’ll just blow you a kiss over the phone”. She made a kissing sound, touched her lips with her finger, and blew out of her mouth as to send him a kiss”.

Cody smacked his cheek, slightly, and joked, “Got it! Did you hear that? It landed right smack on me!”

They laughed and talked awhile. They just had to be friends, again. Nothing should stand in their way, for there was too much enjoyment of each other’s company, and if that meant the boyfriend/girlfriend thing was off the table, so be it. Maybe it could work, again. It might be worth a try, in time, but the platonic was doable. They just knew they wanted each other back, to be in each other’s life once more.  

.
Alexander S Mar 2010
As I wander in, the path ahead unfolding
I'm forced to reassess the playing cards I'm holding
Conquer and divide the uncertainties,
only to find they're alive, they've multiplied
And though my days wandering down the wrong path have ended
Its set for the aimless wandering to begin
Most days are unsurprising
I can see the sun arising
Illuminating the things I've learned thusfar
Though still leaving me with a tin can for a heart
It's like looking in the rear view mirror,
objects no more nearer, rather farther
And it's only getting harder seeing, believing that my intuition's not deceiving,
That the feeling that's haunting me
Isn't just because of where I want to be,
That what I see is what I see,
That I haven't shrouded my head in rose colored glasses,
Not clouding myself with whatever flight of fancy
Passes me from midnight to midmorning, warning me
That morning light dancing across my bed isn't the harbinger of another day of medioctiry,
But the bringer of the life I swear I see.  
That I haven't deluded myself concluding,
Reading signs alluding to some moment frozen inside my head subconsciously
That I swear has been there all my life,
That I'm fated like I thought, not condemned to waiting,
Not believing without reason, not deceiving,
But seeing the redeeming that I've seen,
Just believing what I've seen.  
Just believing.
Kelcee All Jan 2017
Conflicting variations of a familiar scene provoke emotions similar to that of deja vu and dreams... the illusion of clarity often eludes a fixed Vantage Point... a calculated encounter is brought forth by dominating influences of past experiences... the validity of patterns limits the justifications that are inevitably silenced... consequently forcing a breakdown of familiar comfortable suggestive behaviors...
... Kelcee All
Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
I see you put a ring on her finger, so you made her your wife
So she's the one you want with the rest of your life.
And that's alright baby.
You chose the better woman for you
But does better make it right baby?
I can't tell you about her heart because I've never been in it.
But I can tell you about the beat of your heart when you hit it.
And when our eyes unite
The fires of desire enlight the flames to ignite
Damsel in distress
You used to be my shining knight
Despite the shadows lingering over the battlefield indicating this might be too dull for you to fight.
So now we just avoid eye contact outright.
But baby you can't tell me that her ***** is this tight.
She's got a maze of expiration dates between her thighs, and I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd never let you out of sight, and I won't.
But don't look me in the eyes and say you love me if you don't.
It's okay baby.
If you need to get away I got a place for you to stay baby.
Foreplay in the doorway,
I got a couple roles for you to portray
While she's upstairs sleeping
Say,
Remember those days baby?
You'll always have a special place in my heart because you've always had a special place in that dark pink treasure chest.
I gave you the keys so you could come and go as you please but it seems we left a few things unaddressed.
Reassess:
It's mine too.
Sharing under the protection of my bed sheets,
The complexion of your *******;
The collection of our affection,
There has been redirection to our connection.
There is no love in making love if we're using *** to untie knots.
Tell me what's the point of holding on to something that is not.
But I'll hold on to your memory.
Justin Petermann Apr 2018
The lights are bright
The big boys have come out to play
The Brow will flex his might
The Beard will ruin your day
The Baby Dinosaurs seek to change perception
While the greens look for an immaculate deception
The Young prince is poised to reassess
While The joker will complete the process
Forget about hickory town at your peril
The Flash looks to prove that he aint sterile
The magic men look to climb to the peak
Don't you dare take your eyes off The Freak

The Chef will be back
The enforcer will not crack
Rip city looks for the soft touch
The stat Padder needs to prove that he's clutch
In the land of the lakes there's A KAT with unprecedented power
I dare you to step up and challenge the Steifel Tower

With all that being said
The time to rest has been put to bed
For in this majestic tussle to win that ring
You still need to come and see the King
With the NBA Playoffs getting underway i thought i would write a poem about it... enjoy
Tanaka Mupinga Apr 2014
Digging through the pile, always looking for a match
Some thing to stop the pain, some kind of fix or patch
She knows not what she needs, but searches nonetheless
She knows not what's her goal, she does not reassess
Why’s she searching in a junk-yard, when no dealerships are closed?
Why’s she searching for the parts with which others have disposed?

She often finds a fix, or finds some thing to use
No logic when she looks, why search when you can choose
The only parts that fit, only work for a while
The only parts that fit, are at the bottom of the pile
Why’s she searching in a junk-yard, when no dealerships are closed?
Why’s she searching for the parts with which others have disposed?

The dealerships still open, her heart it still does bleed
When will she stop this search, they'll sell her what she needs
Money's not the issue, for everything is free
Money's not the issue, I'm sure she would agree
Why’s she searching in a junk-yard, when no dealerships are closed?
Why’s she searching for the parts with which others have disposed?

Now she starts to panic, the salvaged parts were cheap
Knows not what to do so she falls over to weep
She realizes now, the junk yard parts all break
She realizes now, she's made a huge mistake
Why’s she searching in a junk-yard, when no dealerships are closed?
Why’s she searching for the parts with which others have disposed?

Thinking clearly now, she knows where she must go
The pains already stopped, her face is all aglow  
She knows what she must do, the junk yard she must leave
She knows what she must do, and what she can achieve
Now she's shopping in the dealership, where everything is free
Now she's shopping in the dealership, the dealership is me.
Crushing from a distance only gets you so far...
Karen Hamilton Nov 2015
Tick-tock, tickity-tock
...The sounds of my memory box
Tick-tock, tickity-tock
This insomnia's got to stop!

Around and round and up and down
My deepest thoughts do fly,
Around and round and inside out,
I think I've lost my mind

They pull me in and spit me out
Whilst running round inside,
They pull me in and SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT
I've nowhere else to hide

I cast a plan, a plan is mine
I have to fool my mind,
To get to sleep I need to trick
My mind, let's start with 'eyes'!

...My eyes are shut - its not enough
"I'M CURSED, I'M DOOMED" I cry
My dearest thoughts now that's enough!
It's time to say 'goodnight'

Now one by one, come on - do come,
Now's not the time to shy,
You've kept me up for long enough
Now let me put this right

You see, my little darling thoughts
Don't fear, its not goodbye...
....I'll reassess your case of course....
Tomorrow, when its light!!


© Karen L Hamilton, 2013
A regular occurance for me....  written at 4am. Only then could I sleep.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 4
My First Anniversary…
(August 3, 2024)

This title, this poem, a wholly unexpected,
never thinking this path,  
this particular tango existential
would/was needed,
to be added to
my dance card

an early exit, a poem unplanned,
second chance was not a poem in my long
list of titles awaiting a turn to be written

a year ago,
they sent me to the surgeon,
who had prepared, with no hesitancy declared,
informed that we needed to start
all over again,
my poor heart
was waxing and waning,
and I was currently stuck on
the dark side of the moon,
with no jitney making stops theron

by the way,
the accumulation of damage had attained
a level where heart was
nearly exhausted,
( I believe he mentioned 98%)
that attention must be made,
how about
tomorrow we asked,
he laughed no can do,
but the day after would be ok,
and was I an earlier riser,
a coveted 600am slot available,
my name could be penciled in…

One tear ago, 
 wheeled me in, cracking jokes,
thinking what’s the big deal,
laughing hardest
was me,
for my motto was always leave them
(oops, poor choice of words) laughing…
fear was not in my lexicon, nor in my heart,
nor was
a ferry cross the
Rubicon

so many changes, so many poems 365 days later,
the life marked by many a Cain scar,
the big one, a pencil thin ****  hesty reminder,
plus assorted scars scattershot all over, where the “borrowed” veins and arteries, like pieces of twine, mighty fine,
(no, I never slashed a wrist, though it looks like it)
moved to different places,
repurposed, for I was now a used car
but with an extended warranty…

do not think on it much, but as markers come and go,
you think:

oh! I’ll never forget this trip, event, celebration,
and a week later your mind has nearly deleted it from the
critical events memory synapses, just another
day in the blah blah blasphemy
of a insignificant man’s unremarkable life…

but when I shower, the scars rise to the surface,
all over my body’s map, they come out shouting,
“look what I did for you,” from places weird,
they tingle, insuring my never ending surprise,
at that Olympic trial,
they raced, earning a piece & place
on my gold, overall medley team medaling,
or meddling
(when I tease them…)

so, let us bring this to a close, one man’s life,
ain’t making much a difference to most everybody else,
but the question that needyfor asking,
have you changed, how have you changed?

Less than you think, still write you poems with head and heart,
with humor and wit, sweet revelations, reverent with feeling, somehow a
bit original, leaving you laughing,
or maybe even better, smiling…

my mistakes all shared, and my burdens, some shared,
some too dark to be ever revealed, and I’m guessing I’m pretty
((much😉))
the same as I was before, older, not much wiser,

but these days, I surprise myself, for I sit outside
overlooking the wide waters surrounding,
embrace the sun at its earliest morn appearance,
love me the whipping snap of the
sound of great continuous wind gusts,
all the while surveying the world,
while winds are flowing all over me
like vibrant caresses, excavating my creases,
the ancient and recent
lineage
upon my face,
and sit in utter peace
thinking about everything,
and never tire,
staying for longer than a man has a right to do nothing
but to
reassess,
evaluate,
judge,
convey…
and
always
refresh
and confront
today’s

tally…
music
“Blue” by Joni Mitchell
“Older” sung by Ben Platt
Kyle Kulseth Jun 2016
Bills are scheming with a lightweight check
               again.
Swear to God they must by
         best of friends.
And now I'm sitting solo on my couch
               again
with these 4 walls.
They've become parenthetic.

It's the same everywhere,
               I know.
Same for my friends.
'Cuz the loan checks that we're writing won't
          pay dividends.
We majored in Assumptions,
tossed our caps and
               then
we found new meanings
for what's copasetic.

Now it's easy...
too **** easy...
So easy...
It's too easy.

To wander these same neighborhoods
and stay in tiny, ****** apartments
when the loose ends of your 20s tangle
and you're tied to where you've always been.

And I'll never ask for
          FOR ANYONE'S HELP.
But I still can't take
          CARE OF MYSELF.
So I'll
          COOK MY DINNERS
     ON THESE BURNING BILLS
and laugh my way to the bank
so they can repossess my smile.

Days keep blurring through to nightlight gleams,
               I know
time is racing past but
      thoughts are slowed.
And I'll be sitting pretty on my couch
               alone
inside 4 walls
because habits are a home.

It's the same everywhere,
               I know.
Same for us all.
Late nights and lame jokes we're making
          push back walls.
We majored in Assumptions,
tossed our caps and
               all
we found were new ways
to be pathetic.

But it's easy...
just too easy...
So easy...
It's too easy.

To stay in soured relationships,
stay still in tiny, ****** apartments
when the low points of your paychecks dangle
while you're trying to climb as high as rent.

And we couldn't be in
          ANY WORSE HEALTH.
And we couldn't be less
          FAIR TO OURSELVES
but we'll keep on keeping
like it's copasetic

And we'll never ask for
          ANYONE'S HELP.
Though we still can't take
          CARE OF OURSELVES.
So we'll
          COOK PLATES OF CROW
          ON OUR BURNING BILLS
and laugh our way downtown
where we can reassess our smiles.
Nicole Bataclan May 2013
The universe is testing me
It did not inquire
When there was plenty
Of opportunity

It picked the right timing
That it could not be
Rather unmistakably
More unfitting

Had I been asked before
I would have been certain
About my answer
But now I am bewildered

How am I to dismiss
When each time
The suspension is tempting

How can it come to an end
When soon enough
Never seems to arrive late

A clash with the universe
As it forces me to reassess
The choices
I am about to make
When really
I should not be
Doubting

Even for just a second.
J Mar 2011
I wish I could tell you;
everything
I've been keeping inside.
How I want to blame you,
how that Halloween was a thorn in my side.
How when I think of you,
I grit my teeth.
How you need to be in a hospital.

I wish I could tell you;
everything
I've kept and all the lies.
How I never loved you,
how that companionship was just another
dip in my stride.
How when I see your name,
I wish it was on a clipboard;
at the foot of your bed again,
sitting guard-style as you made small talk.
How my sketchbook filled itself as I
stayed by your side.

How of all the people you've abandoned,
I'm the least of all the snide remarks,
the least of all the cries for attention.
How when I think best friend,
I think pull the trigger.

How when you mention all the things you've
"done for me" to get me to overlook your insecurity,
to get me to reassess the frailties I know are simply
ingrained in you...
What passes through my mind are not what I owe you,
but what I've done for you,
and all the midnight phone calls that saved your life.

How when you tried to make us "even",
I cried.
How when you brush aside my concerns,
I wallow that you've let me down.

You're unreliable and I've known it from the start,
that you were weak and lazy, like me.
How your conscience crumbles under the weight of
a simple phrase.

I always had hope but it fades every time you tell me
that I should talk to you, that I must not like you because I don't.

Steady, I am. Like a plant whose roots are drinking all the wrong things,
but going nowhere.
Locale has never been my issue. I wander not far,
I walk on my own two feet.
I am always where I am.

Afraid, and alone, and aside,
a thorn in my side.
a dip in my stride.

I know that you are the one that owes,
and I'd be happy to overlook it.
But I've given you
chances
chances
chances
to overcome what I know you're capable of,
to become what I know you're capable of.
I've given you
smiles
times
graces
to breathe life into the dream sitting straight ahead.

But your blind eyes sway you,
every time.
You're not sublime, never feeling just 'fine'.

I wish I could tell you
all those times we spent side by side
before you cast me aside
before the dip in my stride
before the tides tore us apart;

best friends means you get what you deserve
best friends means
written 03/16/2011
Heidi Werner Sep 2021
I imagine walking on a balance beam
I have only just gotten the hang of it
Before this moment I had always fallen off.
I know that I'm going to mess up
I keep telling myself
“its ok to mess up you’re still learning”
Yet I feel an overwhelming need
To be successful, just this once.
To complete my walk.
And I do, I complete the walk.
So, because things have gone well
I walk again, and I find success
I begin to trust my own two feet
I walk again and again and again
Each time I make it to the other end
Each time I become more prideful
This next time I move too quickly
I try to go faster, still making it
I stagger half-way through
But I think nothing of it
So I hasten my step
And I stagger again
But my mind blocks out
The possibility of falling.
I go faster and faster
Until I am at a full on sprint
No longer am I teetering
On this beam below my feet
I believe that I am perfect
No one can touch me
I believe that I am the best
And that no one else can go this fast
I am in competition with the entire world
I am in competition with only myself
Only myself
Myself
Me
Me
I am nothing
I am a fake
I am useless
I am ugly and worthless
And the exact opposite of perfect
I quickly mask these thoughts
Telling myself
“You can push through”
And for a time I do
I have boundless energy
I can run as fast as possible
I make it to the other end of the balance beam
Then suddenly an impulse
My body takes over
And without explanation
I am flying through the air
100 miles a minute
Crashing into a bottomless abyss
I lie still for a moment on the mat below
Looking up towards the beam
Where I once stood so proud
I pick myself up
I decide I am an elite gymnast
And I am an astronaut
I am a long distance runner
And a 5 star chef
And a doctor
And a bird
And a rock climber
And a rock
And a brilliant professor
And an angel
And a world renowned artist
And, and, and, and
I twirl around and dance
I sing to no one
I am an opera singer
I rush to the water fountain
It is Niagara Falls
Splash, “watch out, you’ll get wet”
I say this to an audience of no one
I am an actor on broadway
“Ain’t no one round here as good as me”
Then in my periphery
There are shadows
I cannot stop moving
Never stop moving
If I stop moving the shadows will crawl around me
Creeping in through my nose
My mouth and my ears
Telling me things I never want to hear
So I run
I run so hard and so fast
That I forget everything
I am existing inside each moment only
I don’t know where I am or where I am heading
but I continue to run
Until I am surrounded by trees
And I remember everything again
I remember the balance beam
Why did I leave the balance beam?
It felt natural and simple
to just walk
to just walk and stay balanced
Why am I in the woods?
And then the thoughts come
And the shadows come with them
So I climb a tree
In hopes that the shadows
Will pass quietly underneath
I am painfully quiet
But the thoughts are still here
I cannot hide
I cannot run
I cannot get away
They race in my brain
They course through my veins
They are evil thoughts
They taunt me, saying
“This world is without reason”
“Your life is pointless”
“You are crazy”
“You will never be anything”
“Jump! jump! jump!”
I am high up in this tree
I am safe from the shadows here
But the thoughts never leave
I cannot break free
So I give in
Maybe if I listen to them
I will release the pressure that builds inside me
Suddenly I am compelled
To leap from this tree branch to the next
I fling myself through the air
believing I will fly like a bird
Because the thoughts said I could
I black out as I fall back to the earth
Suddenly I am on the ground
Not even remotely sure
Of how I got here
I lie there for a few moments
And then out of the corner of my eye
I see the shadows
They move through the woods like smoke
Like a black fog
Like death creeping towards me
So I quickly pull myself to my feet
And I am in a full on sprint once more
I don’t know which direction I am headed
Or where I am
Or if I'm even running
And then it hits me
A car
I am on the highway
flying over the hood of a sedan
Crashing into the ground
My skin burns as it moves across the asphalt
I become a mound In the middle of the road
I imagine that I am a pile of dirt
I will not move
I will just do what dirt does
What does dirt do?
My body burns, my skin is on fire
Can dirt catch fire?
The world moves slow
Does dirt move faster than the world around it
Does dirt experience time differently?
Someone is talking to me
Which is absurd
Who talks to dirt?
Sirens crowd the traffic of my cochlear nerve
It is the only thing I can hear
My brain starts to malfunction
Like a computer flooded with a virus
I hear the siren repeat
It loses a note with each repetition
Until all I hear is one note
One note
I close my eyes
I am completely numb
Something in me knows I have to fight
“I've forgotten what I started fighting for”
I believe that if my eyes are closed
No time passes
I allow this break in time to go on
I need to separate myself from time for a moment
Allow myself to think
To reassess
To gather what has occurred
What has occurred?
Feeling a little panicked at the thought of not knowing
I open my eyes
I am in a room
I try to move
But my body won’t listen to my intentions
I look down and see metal rods sticking out of me
Now, I remember
I am a robot getting serviced
That’s all this is
It’s probably why I malfunctioned
No biggie
a robotic technician walks in
she asks me how I feel
I answer
“What an absurd question,
Robots do not feel”
She looks at me with kind eyes
“Ok, thanks for your input”
She leaves the room
Closing the door behind her
The darkness licks at the bottom of the door
It seeps through and envelopes the room
I cannot see
I hold my breath
I do not feel
I give up
The darkness begins to course through my veins
It twists through every corner of my being
Walking through the corridors of my body
Leaving menacing thoughts in its wake
Then, without warning
Everything becomes red
Red feels like pain
It tastes like needles
So I try to occupy my mind with things
Anything to distract me from the pain
I scream audibly
I scream a song
If Im singing I am distracted
“I'm a little teacup short and stout
Here is my handle here is my spout”

I imagine all this
Stuck inside my own mind
Making up foolish stories
But, this is what it's like
This is what it will become
This is what I will become
Bipolar seeps through my brain
Attaching old forgotten pathways
Lighting them all up at once
Then with similar speed
Making them all go dark
In and out, up and down
A never ending merry-go-round
But, somewhere in all this
Is me.
brooke Jun 2016
I recently unearthed old photos of me
with a mop of scraggly black hair and
a ***** smile on my face, the kind of
smile I used to give before sinking into
myself, twisting my face up to disappear
and reassess my insides, how was that heart
workin' out for you, sweetheart?

And years later I still feel the familiar jolt,
manage to think that I am too sloppy for
loving, I've always been a pallet of nudes
a swarthy child waiting to be as blue as
the sky, holding myself to a standard
physically impossible, people tell me
I'm beautiful and I still wonder why
if this is as easy as loving myself then
I want to know how,  I say thank you
with a hand over my heart to hold in
the little girls, who still wait in the middle
of empty classrooms for a partner, who still
envy the women that grew fox-glove petals
in the golden hour while I crouched in the
curly willow branches, semi-dormant
perpetually brown with too much skin
standing off the side because I was too
afraid to touch others,

too afraid of an olive complexion. Too afraid of being in this body.


When someone loves you, how will you know?
what will they do when they see my scars, the ones that only
show at certain times in certain ways? Under hot water and at
noonday? when will I be okay with a broken heritage, with a mexican
daddy who cut the ropes back to the village where I was supposed to
return to? And why do I feel like the winds and hot sands when boys hold my hands? Like I am burning up the rivers or smoldering beneath
the dry autumn brush in San Isabel, where only beetles and lizards congregate, a backboard baby with
an overprotective mother, carrying the strings I've tried to tie to others--

direct me home, sir.
direct me home, ma'am.

Tell me who I am.
tell me who i am
(c) Brooke Otto 2016


Draft dump. Written May 15th.
801 Mar 2016
My value is up in the air again.
“Be confident,” they say.
“Do your best!”
But what is my best?
When all my contributions are turned back,
when my best is thrown away,
I need to reassess.

Perhaps the value I've given
is not valuable.

When I am trapped in a single
uncomplimentary description,
when they smile
and turn away,
am I now worthless?

I may decide I am worth
a kings ransom
and my thoughts and actions
his right hand
but I cannot be confident in
the assessment
unless there is one
willing to buy.
On sticks and stones
censuring tones
and going home alone.
AlanK Jul 2014
The earth reveals
Layers of rock
From ages past
Clues of life exposed
Frozen in time
Secrets exclusive for inquisitive
And learned minds.
To others, just rock,
Striated, fused, multi-colored.

Springtime, snow melts,
The months of frozen feelings
Thaw and reveal a blanket
Of hidden emotions nurtured
By fallen leaves.
Layered like rock, they cuddle
In their dampness
As the sun brings life to the months
Of quiet glacial discovery.

The law is a puzzle of the seasons
Mysterious in its ambiguous simplicity
Present, at hand, but always out of grasp
Layered meanings twist the mind
History adds the pressure of precedence
A crutch for lazy minds
Struggle to reassess and delve deeper
Into meanings untapped
A mine waiting to share its ore
A wrapping of leaves concealing
Life unawares, undiscovered.
Time. Energy. Passion.
No secret.  
The key to discovery is simple,
Innocent in the palm of your hand
One turn, and a world is unlocked.
We Are Stories Jun 2021
in an attempt to save what can’t be
Anjun begins his faithful quest
to deter tarator’s wrathful hand
and convert the faithless to faithfulness-

-O, lands, air, and flame,
can you hear my plea
for a risen dawn
over the rushing seas?
let my words be planted
like hidden seeds
inside the hearts
of my enemies-

-let peace succeed-

“My dearest brothers
Clothed in roaring fires
Let your mercy meet my words
And may your hatred transpire-
A loving hand I offer you
A loving heart to inspire
Love inside your empty chests
And raise up loves great pyre-

Mercy, peace and grace align
Let mercy burn and mercy shine
And let foes leave hand in hand
Friends at least till timeless ends

Mercy, love, and truest hope-
A twine of thread is easily broke,
Unless to another fastened
It can not prevent the chasm-
So let us tie our hearts in one
And let nations befriend, and with war be done.”

out of true love and heart he spoke,
and from the dark the hearts awoke-
yet
what is put into practice
is sure to follow through-

Anjun had surely come to the end of his quest
With Tarator’s men seeking holy steps
Yet the great Bear ,Neltoc, chief of tarotor, was not easily swayed
Inviting Anjun to speak privately about such holy ways-

Neltoc:
“Anjun, I know your heart is pure gold,
Desiring nothing but what you think is best,
Changing our ways of old
To become new, to change, to reassess.”

Anjun:
“Mighty Neltoc, what you speak is true,
I only seek to enlighten and share new truths.
For a nation cannot truly be set free
Until the leaders release the power to serve the lowly,
Which is what the divine scripture has shown me,
Which I believe wholly”

Neltoc and Anjun conversed long into the night,
Discussing their shared values of their people-
Although clearly it was dark outside,
The light on the inside shows two men, both equals.
The bear and the mourning bird had formed new trust
And had compelled a new start, though still feeble-

but upon the wall a shadow was seen cast,
as a fox moved outside the window
(a fresh zealous disciple desiring to protect Anjun,
in fear was cracking back the arms of his longbow)
but mighty Neltoc was prepared for an attack
having archers on the roof of his palace;
so when the shots into the foxes skin we’re heard,
Neltoc became enraged with malice!
turning now to Anjun with fear and anger,
he asks his newfound friend why he’d done this.

though the mourning bird plead innocent
the thread of trust had already been broken;
so even though Anjun was free of guilt,
the floor confessed his throat had been cut open-

news throughout both nations spread quickly,
waking all able hearts from their sleeping
and as the warriors readied in the cities,
disciples could be heard in Anise weeping:

(the mourning bird
is dead
and the sun
bows in shame
------- watching -------
as they lay a precious spirit
deep in its grave)


ring now the bells of destruction
and weep for the passing of anjun!
here comes the king to silence an eruption,
to destroy tarator and bring about their final doom!

off with the head for who the mourning bird has bled
and lay him dead so that the beasts may now be fed
eating of the flesh which has stolen flesh
and may the bells toll at the finalized revenge!


(off with the head for which the pacifist was bred
and lay his kingdom in the rubble of its death
burning up this weakness that only fire can perfect,
leave none left behind, finalize our steps!)
-
we trust in the power of blood
to write this tale complete!
cowardice has no place
within the eyes of fate,
oh great sword of death, let your glory be our final speech!

out with the heart for which wickedness does start
and cleanse the dark out from where it does depart,
cut open the chest and remove its sacred parts
scatter the remains on the plains under heaven’s stars!


(out with the eyes from which shedding tears are cried
and purge all charity from the lion’s pride
rip open the skin and remove what lies inside
scatter the remains on the plains under the mornings sky!)

we trust in the power of blood
to write this tale complete!
cowardice has no place
within the eyes of fate,
oh great sword of death, let your glory be our final speech!

Blood
Rain down
Blood
Rain down
Blood
Rain down
Pardon all our sins
Blood
Rain down
Blood
Rain down
Blood
Rain down
And in your rain let fate be set!

split open the earth
and let the bodies fall in
as bones seep into dirt
we forget their origins

as the trumpets begin to sound
a weeping wail is heard
for although securing victory
the king's last words were heard.
for as sickness has no allegiance
falling on the good and bad,
though the wicked may be dead
the righteous lose the head they had.

peace returns to the land
but at what perilous price
two cities meet now hand in hand
but at the cost of a lion's life.
Allen James Aug 2018
POW
The rapid fire of a printer,
Can rip a soul to shreds,
At 9:00AM some think it’s ten,
While others just forget,
One by one we hold our ground,
With nowhere to retreat,
Our fingers march in unison,
To the sound of the same beat,

Poor young Bobby's in the corner,
Still trembling in his boots,
This is no place for tender hearts,
For that is what we shoot,
12:00PM - Swallow regret,
With ramen in a bowl,
A busy stomach helps to keep,
The mind off starving souls,

Fly back now birdie, it's 12:30,
There's been a breach of internet,
We all break rank and start to yell,
"Run for your cigarettes!"
Let's pull ourselves together now!
There's glory to be had,
They say our names will live forever,
When sales aren’t too bad,

4:00PM - It’s time again,
To reassess our plan,
All team leaders to the front,
In chains of old command,
Let’s push a little further now,
Eyes on the prize of screens,
We'll break our backs, our necks, and wrists,
But we will never break routine!

6:00PM - We did it men!
Victory is here,
Now how about we celebrate?
With laughs and ice cold beer,
But wait a second, look out there!
The enemy’s not through,
I know they’re all too young to die,
But killing children is what we do,

Another round. What say you, men?
Let’s not forget our cause,
We've found so many bodies here,
Yet all the minds are lost,

Now brace yourselves for madness,
Thoughts of discharge from your desk,
For delusion earns no payment here,
And hopes are kept in check,
And should you ever dare to wander,
Then you too shall go berserk,
With visions of a POW,
A Prisoner Of Work.

— The End —