Today it took me two hours
twelve markers
half a roll of paper towels
and seventeen redos
to fill a whiteboard at my place of work
Today I counted steps
in the sidewalk blocks as I walked
1
1, 2
1, 2
1
only having to backtrack and repeat
twice
Today I stood in the tiny wooden doorway
of my apartment's fire escape
for the entire duration of my cigarette
terrified to step foot on the steel grate
all for fear of the lightning in the distance
because after a brief ocular inspection
I was so certain
that there is no god ****** way this building
is up to code in that regard
Today I couldn't help but wonder
what ever has happened in my life
to once again trigger
these neurotic thought patterns
that plague me from time to time

Chances.
How many do you get?
How many do you want?
You can take them.
Or you can steal them.
But who do you steal them from?

Only so many are given.
It's advised not to push the limits.
Although there are all too many gimics.
Of chances I mean.
How do you know when you get one?
How do you know when you loose one?
Often you're told,
often they're sold.

They're traded from person to person.
Given, taken, stolen, awakened.
Sometimes people don't want to give them.
Because maybe you took too many.
Maybe you just took them without asking.
People don't like that,
When you take things without asking.
It makes them feel used.
A feeling all too common I see.

If you take a chance.
You can choose the size.
It's best advised,
you measure it.
Because from time to time,
People don't.
They let someone else choose for them.
You don’t want the wrong size
Not everyone knows your size
That’s why you’re supposed to choose for yourself
You can't wear clothes that are too big.
You'll look foolish.
That's why you return them.
But you can't return chances.
There are no receipts.
No repeats.
Only advances,
To places that lead to more chances,
If you’re lucky.

Chances are not redos.
So don't dare think they are.
Or you'll look foolish in your oversize suit.
During your life long commute.
People always remember the ones you take.
And especially the ones you steal.
So don't trip on your pride.
Because soon it'll be the only thing you’ve got.

I'm feeling like a pop quiz sweetheart
I hope to god you studied
I don't accept failing grades, no redos
It'll be the last you see of me.

Oh, I'm feeling testy
I wake up angry
I live in fury
Don't **** with me

Pass my "test," sweetheart. Pass it.
I only have so much patience.
I only have so much patience I can spare on you
I don't have the time or care to explain what I meant.

Just show me that this isn't a waste of time.
I'm not having the time of my life losing my mind.
If it's gonna go, it better be for someone who's at least trying
Don't make me regret this, sweetheart, it's your time to shine.

Oded to vintage,
dirt wrinkles and grime.

Grinding the time,
one second at a time.

Hands up hands down,
ticking running around,
the face of time smiles wide.

Twelve, eleven, ten,
nine, eight let’s do it again.

The only way to turn back time
is to rewind the clock. No redos
just memories.

Tick tock, tick tock, oded to vintage,
dirt wrinkles and grime.

These are my vintage thoughts,
they aged wisely and I’ve been
digging for the time
deeper into the depths
of vintage earth.

Wrapped in lace and bonet,
skirts of mourning black and sad,
tears stain the cloth slowly turns
yellow.

Oded to vintage,
dirt wrinkles and grime.

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton

The soldiers who fight for our country
Have a harder job than we ever will
They're getting tired of reading the other wills
Most people would run for the hills
When a bullet gets close to them
But this is another day in the office for them
Merely a realistic training session
But there are no takebacks or redos.
It's all real.
This court can't appeal
Just sit in silence
Silence is harmonic and hellish simatenously
Too hard to explain

My life crumbled down
Like it was a fragile object
After being tossed around
By the baggers on the plane.
Being lead to a drama
That doesn't have an axis
No plot twists nor redos
Just another tragedy of me.
Now I only sing this shanty
That I learned from the sea
Awaiting the death me
Oh poor old man.

Sometimes you look for redos and think how you could've done it right. You'd like to change go back to that moment but you don't belong there you grow. Eventually you feel like you've out grown everything nothing feels right or makes sense. Grasping that moment then it fades loses all value. People come and go like the seasons everyone changes some for the better others just settle. You work to invest in a dream it makes sense to you while others think you're crazy. Pursing a dream leaving others behind you are not the same but others will never see you different. They remember from the past and assume they know your future. You went the distance alone while you start back at the beginning after many mistakes. It's hard starting over stuck in a bubble sometimes you want to be part of the world other times you hide in your bubble. You don't know your place or where you belong once you find yourself and figure out where you belong. Many years of trying to fit in working with what thrown in my direction another time consumer another detour once it ran out stuck asking what's next.

humanity
these days,

often
leaves me
in
bewilderment,
awe
and despair.

hunt,
go ahead
for food
of course
but,

why shoot
a bear?

that's just
trophy
hunting,
pound
your chest
little *****
syndrome
in my eyes.

i literally
look at
those that
trophy hunt
as wolves
in disguise.

be you
of course.

just remember,
God
nor I..

your
murderous
behavior
will we
ever endorse.

i clearly
put much
more value
on life,
any life
than you.

i am
thoughful
enough
to know
that
once we
draw our
last breath..

there are
NO REDOS.

**** for
food?
Jesus
approves.

******
for sport?
from heaven
to hell
your
forever home
moves.