"surmised" poems
From youth, not unlike the love
I received from my family, I surmised,
that extended love might be everywhere.
With artless, open arms and heart,
I embraced this simple notion.
In time, sadly this childish wish
was honed to a hard truth by maturation.
Friends and loves come
and go, fleeting in heart,
and committed soul.
Unreliably, flowing in and ebbing out,
like deep undulations of an ocean,
all too often with sneaker waves
that pull us under. Breakers pushing
our ship onto the rocks, in a sea
of shallow unfulfilled expectations.
Encounters becoming disappointment,
with too many frogs kissed.
My educated suspicion is,
beyond our family of blood kin,
Faithful canine love is the only
other "truly committed devotion"
we are likely to get.
In the end, that may well be enough.
Perspective wisdom can be a bitter lesson.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
I need only to smirk and you’re mine
Anytime
If it’s god that you want
I have dozens in mind
Devilishly divine
Bending time like a grandeur delusional
Spine
In a mad hatter ectoplas-mystical slime
A prismatic drug addict’s first nursery rhyme
Of accursed hearse verses of graphic design
Now to lay to rest intellect spectacles musing
Of selves glorified more than those of my choosing
To deify Destiny’s
Deathly serenity
Plentifully sending me vibrant surprises
And penning my ending in violent demises
Disguises surmised by the climate arises
Girl always there riding my similar waves
As I try to save face digging mechanized graves
But the cloud tentacles
To the depths
Drag me down
To demented ascension
Black holes in the ground
Where disciples of light
And my huntress in white
Vivify me by day
Resurrect me at night
To instruct and deduct
Reasoning in a state
Of a being supreme
Contemplating its fate
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
712
Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—
Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—
Since then—’tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity—
4.5k
there was once a man who lived
in burnt rocky hills
village farmer frail and tilt
humble down to strips
and one day his wife fell sick
he took her in his hands
but in path for miles thick
one huge hill did stand
he knew but closest path to town
would take whole day on foot
if it weren't this hill around
get there sooner he could
even though he tried his best
kept his faith alive
yet he failed the time's test
could not save his wife
abruptly in his mind
did one thought arise
through conflicting reasons
to himself he surmised
"there'll always be dreams to live
tears to wipe, things to moan
to witness coiling stillness give
reason to your lonesome tone"
with this thought himself he backed
and let go of his fears
whom neither Gods could distract
he faced the mountain near
a modest hammer in hand
not for once dismayed
unfazed by its candid stand
he stood not once afraid
"for he was just some lunatic
who sold his goats for a chisel
for no man can do such trick
surely its all such drivel"
inch by inch he chipped away
just one stroke a time
when scorching sun endowed the day
heat fueled up his mind
seasons came and seasons went
men who mocked him too
turned to dust who crossed his way
yet he went going through
long before his life would cease
two decades marked his trial
all in sweat on forehead crease
and scratched on time's dial
and then arrived this moment
it surely had to come
for in pools of anguish spent
lilies of faith bear from
speak your will and do your speak
says the farmer's life
say you're strong when you feel weak
marching through your strife
for no paths does life forbid
it takes no account
keep on moving as he did
man who moved the mount
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
He lived down the street from us,
And came to be known as,
The man whose wife left him.
We speculated and surmised.
None but two knew the reason why
He became
The man whose wife left him.
He stopped cutting the grass
And weeding the beds.
He won’t play his uke
On the porch like he did.
From all accounts,
He was a good Dad,
None ever heard him
Explete a foul word.
He worked till retired,
Never was fired.
I'm told he lived a gentle life;
Never started a fight,
Or ran from strife.
That's what I heard
About the man whose wife left him.
Left to his own devices,
The man whose wife left him,
Left.
Jun 2, 2023
Jun 2, 2023 at 8:28 AM UTC
Eros himself took one look at you
He smiled & at once knew, no more he could do
He surmised that his arrow would just go to waste
On a woman of such impeccable Beauty and taste
To paint Love on your smile would be utterly useless
And attempts to teach your being of Love would be fruitless
This God of Love recognised what I have known from the start
That there's no greater capacity for Love
than in Your magnanimous human heart
The embodiment of Love is what, in You, he saw
The Avatar of One Love so powerful and raw
What caught him off-guard and took him by surprise
Was seeing the familiar in the Nebula of your eyes
Without doubt an incarnation of his Goddess mother
Aphrodite reborn in humanity's finest Lover
But even the Gods blush when in Love you ARE
From the Brilliance of your Aura that burns bright as a star
A heat from deep within Self that radiates wide and far
You are truly in Love and you deserve to be
Adored & Celebrated on high for all eternity
for nothing comes close to the Love You create
even Gaia's heart swells as she breathes and pulsates
Lifetimes I'll spend showing you
as often as I can
This humble twin Soul man
Will never stop Loving
his strawberry Moon Jan
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 5:56 AM UTC
In the 2nd grade
a puppy love
crush on the
teacher steeped
deep in me
to my delight
her clear eyes
recognized the
promise of a
chubby boy
in all of his
quaint simplicity
her gentle
voice, friendly
and firm, filled
with caring instruction
the giddy class
attuned to her fresh
brunette bouffant, bunned
and perfectly coiffed,
speaking style and
youthful whimsy,
not a strand of hair
out of place
her svelte figure
flowed through
classroom isles
filling the space
with scented graces
of prescient carnations
that afternoon she
was abruptly called
from the class
when she returned
our beautiful princess
was sobbing
she concealed her face
then turned her back
on the class, crying
in a corner to dismayed
blushing blackboards
regaining composure
she turned
exposing her tear
stained cheeks
and dissheveled hair
to an unsettled class
“the President
hurt his back” she
announced. “He’s
in the hospital.”
Whoa… I thought,
the President hurt
his back. That's
terrible I surmised.
our beloved teacher
dismissed us
and resumed her
tearful grief
when I arrived home
my mother was
sitting on the bed
weeping. “President
Kennedy is dead”
she blared.
my mother’s rumpled
housecoat and
tousled hair flattered
her flowing tears and
anguished sobs.
the tears of women
marked the end
of many puppy loves that day
Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No Cry
Oakland
10/15/13
jbm
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
I was waiting for a simple message from you that
we both know was never to come. I sat impatiently
atop the cities tallest building and watched the coming
storm. I witnessed the water beat the feeble earth
into submission and it looked alright to me. But then
the raging sinless sea swallowed the shore. The end
of our hometown (est. 1919) took about a minute
and a half. A man leapt out of his chair and said it
was amazing as the punishing, purifying wave tore
into his home of 20 years. The coin laundromats and
malls became the shallows and downtown by the Top 40
radio station became the deep. Clown fish swam amongst
the stop lights, trash cans and satellite dishes. And a
coral reef began to grow deeply into the brick of the tasty
Greek restaurant at the corner of MLK and Main. Eels and
rays swam up the sidewalks and hammerheads patroled
the submerged skyscrapers. Admittedly, a lot of the
busy people who didn’t take the time to look out their
smudged windows and watch the water devour the flood
walls and seafront property didn’t make it out of their
homes and cars and schools and businesses. And those
people that didn’t make it to the outskirts of the metro in
time were quickly drowned and integrated breathlessly into
the oceanic food chain. The deep began to kiss my ankles
and I thought I would surely drown. I surmised that you
probably weren’t thinking about us at that moment and that
it was for the best. You had other matters on your mind.
I watched a miniature apocalypse take place and
I thought I should probably call and quickly tell you
that everything you ever loved was gone or going.
I decided against it.
Anything I say to you is gonna come out wrong anyway.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 2:11 AM UTC
Ham took you to a cafe
on London Road;
he was meeting
Bernard there.
Sit there,
Ham said,
indicating a table
by the wall with wallpaper
with a flowered pattern.
You sat; stared
around the cafe;
frowned at two men
at the next table.
Who's there?
You say,
pointing towards them,
wondering where
your Lord Hamlet had gone,
and these two jesters
at his court.
What's the matter, love?
One of the men said,
smiling, eyeing you,
taking in your hair and eyes.
Nay, answer me,
you said, stand,
and unfold yourself.
Ham came over
to the table:
Hush, Ophelia,
he said.
He apologised to the men,
twirling a finger
at the side of his head.
You gazed at your lord;
he contested
with these jesters,
you surmised,
eyeing them.
They looked
away from you;
conversed between themselves;
sipped their mugs of tea,
ate their breakfasts.
You sat gazing at your lord
bargaining with a rogue.
He brought
two mugs of tea
and bacon sandwiches
and sat opposite you,
his back to the jesters.
Bernard will be here soon,
Ham said, gazing at you,
behave yourself.
Bernardo?
Yes, Bernard,
so keep your voice down,
Ham said.
He began his sandwich;
you began yours.
Bernard came in the cafe
and ordered a tea,
and waved.
Bernardo,
you said,
you come most carefully
upon your hour.
Hush, Ophelia,
Ham said.
Bernard smiled at you;
he tried to understand you
and your vocal expressions.
Bernardo,
you said softer
and waved.
He waved back
and paid the rogue
and went, and sat next you,
facing Ham.
Unfold yourself,
you said.
Ham raised his hand
to hush you.
You sat and ate
and drank.
Your lord was speaking
with his minister;
he spoke of battle,
you assumed,
and jested of wounds
of war.
You felt your ***
beneath your dress;
it felt so sore.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
Rainbow cascades down the clouds
In all its colorful splendor, only to
Ingress in a land listless and gray.
The people watch in horror as color
Invades them, the contrast, repulsive.
The children scream and run to their
Mothers, pointing at such anomaly.
“Don’t look, my dears. Such filth your
Eyes must not witness.” A curious
Bystander inspects the rainbow and as he
Lay his hands on it, color makes its way
Up his arm, flushing out the pale visage.
His hair the color of earth, hazel eyes, and
Garments, a fiery crimson and tint of
Sunrise. Pandemonium erupts as the
Man of color stands before the crowds.
“Mom, why does he have color?”
“Keep your distance, my dear, he might
be dangerous.” The man of color walks
Down the street as people scurry away
In fear. “You! Hands up!” Commands a
Squad of armed officers and they proceed
To arrest him. Cuffed, he is taken to the
Town jailhouse and studied by a team of
Physicians. “How do you feel, Sir?”
“ I feel happier than I ever felt in years.”
The man of color surmised he was free,
But little did he know he was imprisoned
By the town. Marked. Stigmatized. Reviled.
A freak who lost it all for showing his true
Colors. Ostracized and alone, why live?
But one fateful day, the man of color found
Purpose, and discovered an ability to infuse
Color on any object he chose. It didn’t take long
For his house to burst with vibrant blues, reds,
Greens, and yellows. He hurried outside to
Breathe resplendent hues onto pallid flowers,
And took a step back, glowing with pride.
Onwards he dashed to town to impart color
On the bleak streets and its ashen inhabitants.
“Hold it right there, freak!" Yelled someone from
Behind. "I saw what you did, and I can’t let you
Pass.” A shot was heard and a bullet pierced
Through his sanguine heart. Falling to his knees,
The man of color kissed the ground and
Declared, “May color come to those who love,”
And breathed his last.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Content, with a tinge of love,
I repent
All I've given up.
Realize what I've surmised
Is a traversed trial of fire.
Higher, higher;
The atmosphere you admire:
Lighter breathing,
Muscles beating,
Entreating my desire.
A pyre,
The phoenix feeling renaissance:
The lover's having ---
Once the want to be satisfied ---
Which was, while shattered, reconciled ---
Compiled a mile-long list
To mist the ever-flowering tree
Of prospect,
Respecting past
Opinion.
Your dominion over my
Ever-subjugating heart
(Pulsating a Morse message)
Belittles meaning in
Stockholm Syndrome,
For I am no
Shackled drone;
And, forever,
This you've known.
We are symbiotic.
We are psychotic.
Celeritous symbols
Sampling this:
Extended metaphor.
Extempore, we entertain and
Adore each other,
The world we are to each.
So: teach me how you look
With beseeching reach
Into deep territory in sleep;
Incept directly
And affect me
Romantically.
Augment what is meant and true.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
as i approach 50 I think
how did this happen...me getting old I mean.
I know the alternative is not that appealing...
but perhaps a granting of my own personal groundhog day is a worthy wish....it doesn't matter which.
I could craft most any day of my life into something spectacular!
Is that wisdom?
After almost half a century, I've surmised to be suspended in time the best I could ask for? well maybe, perhaps then I could amend all my imperfections... reform all the mistakes I've made and re-emerge a better man...
just now it occurs to me...this could be my groundhog moment...the epiphany that the next 50 years brings me living a life well thought... more compassionate, more open, more giving, more alive!
....more likely, just more use of adult diapers...
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
Once upon a time, there lived a lady Gem
When she cleared her throat, she went ahem, ahem!
not to take anything cold, so was she advised
but she didn't care as much her doctor did; so I surmised
The aroma ran sweet when she started to cook
Her tasty muffins' recipes could easily fill a book
Her friends who ate them wouldn't just stop with one
And in the end, she would normally be left with none
When it came to work, she was conscientious
And in all that she did, she was fastidious
Though sometimes one could say, her mood was capricious
In all that she did and said, she was simply courageous
She had a large heart, and it was not just with food
In every one's life that she crossed paths, she blessed them with good!
Anyone who asked for help, would never be told no
She was one of the kindest souls one could ever get to know!
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
Machiavelli spoke of prophets, and surmised that it is only those prophets armed by something that have seen their message spread.
Arm me then, arm me with your nightmares and your suffering and your nights filled with wailing at the sky.
Arm me with the anorexic teenage Americans, with the empty eyes of the Afghani fellahina, with the broken hopes of a ********** in Juarez.
Give me your shame at the mirror's lies, give me your self-inflicted scars, give me that loathing for yourself.
Give me that need for one more shot, give me that hopelessness after *** give me the knowledge that Mom is never coming back.
Clothe me with the skins of a hundred thousand suicides, pour over me the tears of a million hungry souls, burn me with the fire of ten million hearts broken under the heel of a monstrous tyrant.
Do these things, and you will see us become what you've been afraid of all these years.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
The poignance of a well lit room
overshadowed by impending doom
the effervescence loom
the smoke screen hues
lyrical debauchery of the cacophony of the bees
the monotony of human bee-ings
the trees sway unrest
the roots melt with soot
the oaks bent their heads
raise a white smoke flag in silent victory,
Where are we lifeless or livid again ?
Are we questioning dreams of ourselves?
These veins **** as a toad hops,
onto the gravel of a broken pavement
from a shallow pool of naked warmth,
somewhere deep hidden under these falls,
a white sleeve of corporate piety;
human mirth of bilious greenery,
crackling like bones,
the froth of jealousy pools
as teary eyes roll over
rapid.eye.movement sleep,
it lurks behind crimson bushes,
eyes glinting like headlights,
glitter fury.
You’re an abomination to every blood-poem
I’ve surmised so far, no matter how far.
Your eyes match the size and shade
of my backyard moon orchards.
A satiable reflection of what we used to be,
In a spectrum of green.
I cease to be.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
They exiled him from their loveless land
for willingly breaking its rule again and again,
he was asked to **** love, once and for all
love that moves as silent waves of the sea,
never ceases to move, within the depth of his heart.
He was chained and treated like an outcast,
how could a loveless world understand,
the meaning of his passion, that binds him with hers.
He was out of his mind they surmised
never could they imagine they were the ones insane.
Every morning a grubby voice will ask him:
"Do you still hear the music of love the waves play?"
he was calm and said"I am yet another one, like Prometheus,
this is my fire, I stole it for me, her and all other lovers,
your heartless world can never ****** it from me,
not till the moment my soul departs my body"
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
And with that wound to the heart born of cruel enlightenment -
I am affected, and afflicted, to find that He has finally decided to love another.
Who might She be, so superior to me?
How beautiful, Ethereal, Godly must she appear to Him?
Whom could never suffice to provide,
how lowly then am I?
I surmised as engaged that which was nothing but courteous exchange.
His pity shed for foolish me, anguished for His affections,
I was so simple and narcissistic, to imagine any potential ever living.
With that, I am crushed by the weight of a deserved but savage modesty.
How insignificant to His life, diminutive, unworthy must I be?
The sinister sentiment - that He has chosen not only not me, but She - devours all sureness of self and all of my esteem.
Spiteful as I am, I will deny Him tears.
I will cease gratifying such an immense ego and perchance depart with some pieces of dignity.
It is so hard, despite it so long since His immensity last gratified me.
He will never realize the plague on me He's infected,
Never witness the wounds on me He's inflicted,
Never recognize the hopeful heart He's afflicted.
After all this time, perhaps I've accepted that when I come back to You I meet Defeat.
This time, instead, perhaps I take what's left of myself and leave.
Perhaps, I beg, perhaps...
We'll see.
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 12:36 AM UTC
Your dismal looking is to see me
But your frowning look
Like a vaulted dome
Why it rises up?
Deliberately keeps
Your lustrous eyes
Not to meet mine.
Because it carries
The untold stories
Of inner selfsame hearts.
Livid with rage of love
Yet a lingering look
I surmised that
You might have been
Wistfully unanswered.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
And with that wound to the heart born of cruel enlightenment -
I am affected, and afflicted, to find that He has finally decided to love another.
Who might She be, so superior to me?
How beautiful, Ethereal, Godly must she appear to Him?
Whom could never suffice to provide,
how lowly then am I?
I surmised as engaged that which was nothing but courteous exchange.
His pity shed for foolish me, anguished for His affections,
I was so simple and narcissistic, to imagine any potential ever living.
With that, I am crushed by the weight of a deserved but savage modesty.
How insignificant to His life, diminutive, unworthy must I be?
The sinister sentiment - that He has chosen not only not me, but She - devours all sureness of self and all of my esteem.
Spiteful as I am, I will deny Him tears.
I will cease gratifying such an immense ego and perchance depart with some pieces of dignity.
It is so hard, despite it so long since His immensity last gratified me.
He will never realize the plague on me He's infected,
Never witness the wounds on me He's inflicted,
Never recognize the hopeful heart He's afflicted.
After all this time, perhaps I've accepted that when I come back to You I meet Defeat.
This time, instead, perhaps I take what's left of myself and leave.
Perhaps, I beg, perhaps...
We'll see.
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 4:07 PM UTC
I was the queen in quest of your dreaming teens
You were in race to trace my grace of beaming beauty
Your shower of love was to catch my fragrant flower
Life was like amusing laser show for a major glow
A fresh breeze of life I felt in your lifelong lease of love
Your fast love at first sight was forthright, I saw it so
Your love was on a broadband channel, I surmised,
On high frequency at matching wave length you promised
Love was in fairy air you craved, cared n’ carried thru’
I molded to your mauls, for I rejoiced your choice
I was mild and yielding as you stepped up wielding
Rendered and surrendered to your shabby game of love
You left the fruit of your lust in my lap in a decade’s gap.
Embroiled in undue deal, you now embraced
Unhealthy wealth than wealthy health
Lavish lust, peevish love and selfish life
Lo, love is to collate not to collide n’ collapse
I feel sad when our lad says my dad is bad
My love was one popped up from heart
Your love pepped up from crazy corner
The kid is keen to pick up your kiss
Welcome to hold me to your fold, don’t miss
All I need is your towering love
Not your quivering ivory tower.
All I wish you is not to rewind
Your tampered tape on kin akin
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
So I got caught up in life like so many other stiffs.
So I work two jobs. So I'm
twenty-three. Halfway dead, quarter-way dead -
Percentages and figures surmised by a
fictional statistician in some far off laboratory
wearing a handsome tweed sweater
despite the heat, helping to contain his
paunch.
So doctors have told me beer will **** me.
So they advise that I not indulge in any illegal
substances. We do not debate the validity of law. The
role of fear in today's culture. Hysteria. So I'm on antidepressants.
So I'm a candidate for pharmaceuticals. So I drink when
I can, which is just about every day. So I had a problem in
the past, so I spent a month locked away. So I'm not taking
a class. So I'm just about white. So I share a room with Phil
and a house with five other young men. So I had *** with
a girl I pretty much just met. So my drugs are right next to my bed.
So my urine's ***** So I'm a brother and a son.
So I'm my own man.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
I want to see ol’ Warren’s face
When I claim the Billion prize.
When my perfect bracket
takes the cash,
Buffett’s sure to be surprised.
The odds were set against me
much higher than surmised.
Like making sixty free throws
in only fifty tries.
I’d have a better chance,
They said, to date a super model.
The sort of girl I never get
And google just to ogle.
I bet with Buffet’s cash on hand
I’ll attract their sighs,
Kate and Emmy will cat fight
to be first in my eyes.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Frost spoke,
of ice, and fire
in apocalyptic prose
proffering different opinions
of the earth’s demise
if it be fire,
he surmised it was because of the ire
of raging hearts and unfulfilled desire
not of splitting atoms and infinite fire
if it be ice
he said that too would suffice
for frozen hearts do not feel the pain
of millions starving on the blighted plain
funny, ice has shrunk since Frost’s time
but few would argue we are more sublime
for denial and avarice are alive and well
and whether fire or ice, it can still be hell
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 10:29 PM UTC
Late last night I had a date with Death
And she wore a corsage of my last breath
Around her wrist and
I dressed to impress
Half-heartedly desperate to look my best...
I wore a sweater-vest
With a spoon, I slit my throat
And pulled my tongue through the narrow hole
I figured I was getting dressed to die
So I wore a cuban neck tie
I picked her up at eight
On the street parallel to the eastern gate
Of a golf course adjacent to cemetery trees
... Seemed about right to me.
We strolled through the evergreens
And a thorny briar of trees
Silently chewing on epitaffy
I was unsurprised that there was a plot
I had not surmised
And when we found ourselves raising hell
I checked my watch for the time
I walked her home along the shores
Of a river called Styx
With a gondolier called Charon.
And despite his non-speaking tone,
It was nice.
We walked to a house made of brimstone and bricks
I found myself standing at Death's door
and peered inside expecting fire
But instead the fireplace was roasting goat hide
I smiled
And I leaned in for a kiss
Instead of a kiss, all she gave me is...
A pat on the shoulder
And said we could still be friends
After all, we'd be together in
The End
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
Trees are inevitable,
For something must grow higher than the rest.
Grass is inevitable too:
To carpet the world.
So are fish, to swim the seas,
Birds to fly the skies
And human beings to walk the plains.
All Life is inevitable
Springing from a chemical formula or two.
The Universe has Rules
Which make it so.
So, is God inevitable?
I have to ask.
Is there bound to be an Overlord
Responsible for All?
Or is it all an Accident?
Chance Happening?
A spin of some Super-Galactic Wheel?
It’s Logical to have some Being
Who’s Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Omniscient –
However many Omnis there may be.
Or even a Race of Gods
As the Greeks and Romans surmised.
Some say that We invented God
And that is very possible.
Some claim there simply is No God,
Which is quite possible too.
All I know is that I’m here right now,
Living in the Hope
That somehow I’ll survive
My Final Demise
A certain thing that is
For all
Inevitable.
Paul Butters
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC