No One Is Silver, And That One Is Definitely Not Gold

**********

I hear I’m such trash,
I hear I’m a crazy,
I hear I’m an idiot,
But I hear it all,
From a bigot who’s lazy.

**********

It’s time to cut ties,
With all the lies,
Snip it off,
At the root,
Give their ass the boot.

Playing both sides,
Walking a fine fine line,
Always promising to be there,
Pretending to care,
Until it’s time,
To face reality,
Then their face,
You’ll never see.

Going nowhere fast,
And wanting to drag you down,
With their sorry ass,
Keep your focus forward,
No need for glances back,
Those kinds of minds,
Aren’t strong enough to attack.

Facts are facts,
And truth is truth,
It’s not your imagination,
Though they’ll tell you otherwise,
To cover up those lies,
Listen to your inner man,
When you feel him prod you on,
To a different destination.

Hear their silence,
No peace in its presence,
The meaning is demeaning,
Or sometimes malicious.

In proximity,
But just out of reach,
Assuming you’ll save the day,
You’re kept around,
For when desperate times,
Call for desperate measures,
Then in a flash,
Your name is preached,
And they’re stuck like a leech.

Together and caught off guard,
In a battle with bloodshed,
You’d be the one dead,
They’d never give cover,
If you had a bead on your head.

Weak links,
Who fall apart under pressure,
I see them like poor abused dogs,
Beaten and caged,
But deathly afraid,
Thinking without bowing down,
They will starve and drown,
In truth,
They’re even worse off,
Because something they lack,
Is courage to bite back.

**********

I hear I’m such trash,
I hear I’m a crazy,
I hear I’m an idiot,
But I hear it all,
From a bigot who’s lazy.

**********

Fact

**********

Happy Easter!
He is risen!
So it’s your own fucking fault,
If your heart and mind remain imprisoned!

I bet you’ve heard since the cradle,
About God and his Angels,
How a beating and some bloodshed,
Made it so you’re able,
To keep on living once you’re dead.

**********

Eggs and candies,
Put in baskets,
With plush chicks and bunnies,
Delivered or hidden,
By a fictitious rabbit,
Has become the modern day,
Holiday habit.

A way to show remembrance,
To the man who wore,
That crown of thorns,
To the Friday night fight,
That was foretold,
To take his life,
But through God’s might,
Came out alive,
On Sunday morn.

**********

A week before the first Easter,
Jesus arrived in Jerusalem,
And the people acknowledged him,
By throwing palm branches,
Hereby declaring,
Peace and victory’s coming.

Dogwoods and lilies,
Not the most commonly known,
But they’re symbolic to Easter,
Showing there must be someone,
Up there on a Throne.

The wood made the cross,
Where near the lilies sprung up,
As Jesus hung there,
These along with an empty tomb,
Were the recipe that made rebirth,
Possible for all,
Who walk the Earth.

Now we have butterflies and lambs,
Emblems of Easter,
That convey this same thing,
Crucifixion and resurrection,
For the forgiveness of sins.

We make hot buns,
With a cross on top,
And eat them the day,
Our not-yet-done sins were bought,
Buns in which even,
Their seasonings have deep meanings.

On Easter’s Eve,
A big beeswax candle,
Clearly marked,
Stating the cross,
As being Beginning and End,
Spreads God’s light,
To all in attendance that night.

Who knew baby chicks and new outfits,
Share similar significance?
……….Both define new life in this instance.

**********

Now we’re all blessedly able to pass over,
The old timer’s traditional,
Passover sacrifice,
Because when Jesus died,
Becoming the Lamb of God,
There was no longer need,
For the ritual to be applied.

**********

Two Fourteen

This thing,
“Valentine’s Day”,
It reminds me of those church people,
Who only remember,
On Christmas and Easter,
Who is King and Master.

It does not matter,
What they say,
It’s just stupid,
And it’s always been that way,
It does not matter,
What is said,
If it makes you that excited,
You are fucked in the head.

A heart worth snagging,
Will never be impressed,
By heart shaped boxes,
Maybe I miss my guess,
But if that’s all it takes,
For a fucking yes,
You haven’t won a thing,
Worth all that bragging.

Mr. Fancy Pants,
Is taking her,
To the dinner dance,
How very predictable,
But the rest of the year,
You know they’re miserable.

Making time,
By skipping work,
As if he’s not,
Usually a jerk,
As an added touch,
He’s picked up cheesy flowers,
Knowing it’ll amp up his advantage,
That when you’re out on the town,
You will let your guard down,
Mentally sign yourself up,
Together for another year,
Bound to be,
An even deeper disaster.

Bears and candies,
Line the bar,
When you wake up,
And head for coffee,
In your jammies,
This is supposed to make right,
Every time there’s been a fight,
Please don’t fall for it,
Another fucking year of bullshit.

**********

It’s not the life for me,
I prefer to be free,
You may call it lonely,
But I say,
It sure as shit,
Beats your misery.

**********

I Could Never

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Broken and cold,
And forever alone.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Shackled to your past,
So much a bleak future,
Carved in stone is forecast.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Closed off and cruel,
A stubborn old mule.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Dark and bitter,
Boring,
Without glamour and glitter.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Day after day,
Overworked with no play.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Full of judgement and gossip,
Deserving of a sturdy wallop.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Unfaithful and not reliable,
But unfortunately buyable.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
The cause of someone else’s sorrow,
Just because you don’t care,
What happens to you tomorrow.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
A wishy-washy wallflower,
Who suppresses your own power.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Devoid of faith,
And ignoring fate.

May you never let yourself,
Become like them,
Afraid to go after,
The things that bring you,
Joy and laughter.

The Famous Lamb’s Blood

It’s like a wave from the ocean,
But dry like air,
Not breezy like wind though,
It blankets your body,
From head to toe,
As it enters your soul.

You’re left with a feeling,
You’d like to keep on repeating,
Complete,
Though you’re vacant and starving,
Very soon you’ll need more. 

Now you’re unsoiled,
Even if covered in mud,
Found by the blood,
Makes you supernaturally cleaner,
Than you’ve ever been.

Dark forces will try,
Telling you it’s not real,
For what they’ve never experienced,
To them can’t have much appeal.

Do not let them steal,
The way it’s made you feel,
Remember the best paths tend to be narrow,
And at times have never even seen a harrow.

This life’s a long hard road,
Lucky,
Now you won’t be going it alone,
You’ve gained a spirit guide,
Who’ll lead you safely,
To the better side.

No Help For It

It’s my favorite,
And I don’t want to get over it,
Though it seems the worst choice to make,
It’s my favorite,
And I don’t want to let go of it.

I’ll confess it doesn’t seem,
Like a prime pick,
And why just any won’t due,
I’ve no clue,
But this one for some reason,
I think would fit like,
A perfectly-broken-in shoe.

As they’re pretty much alike,
That one should be able to,
Just take a hike,
But it’s like I’d like to connect a cable,
Because when I’ve got it around,
I feel slightly more stable.

Such a terrible old thing,
And gives an awful sting,
When it lashes out like lightning,
But still I find,
It makes my life exciting.

Maybe it’s just an addiction,
If so,
That’s one super strong poison,
Even so,
Bring me a big cup,
And I’ll drink it right up.

It deserves a good kick,
But still,
I hope it stands unmoved,
When it gets this reprove,
Since when it’s around,
My life feels improved.

I bet it’s bad to be around,
It’s always pulsing out vicious vibes,
Like an agressive animal,
It may as well bare teeth,
And lunge at feet.

There’s a simultaneous urge,
To push it away,
And pull it closer,
The emotions that surge,
My mind is like a rollercoaster,
Whether from me it’s near or far.

The sight of it,
Has my stomach in knots,
I’m wishing it would just get lost,
But then I’m loving it.

Persistent as a tooth gone rotten,
It just will not be forgotten,
This sunshine might be lost,
But I’ll seek it out,
At any cost.

Ramifications Of Remaining Silent

First impressions,
Aren’t always right,
I’ve found sweet expressions,
Sometimes hide unsaid confessions,
Someone you think,
Will be a love,
You may have to tell,
To go fly a kite,
Though with an old enemy,
You may eventually,
End up friendly,
Sharing a similar destiny.

We’ve all got things,
We keep hush-hush,
Just remember though,
They’re not all,
Little innocent secrets,
Once we know,
They can deal quite the blow.

Meeting others,
For the very first time,
Lately I’ve learned,
To keep this in mind.

It used to be fun,
Getting to know new someones,
But recently I’ve had to realize,
Enough is enough,
Better to criticize,
Than have wool once again,
Pulled over my eyes.

You think you know,
All there is to know,
About that hoe,
And her friend Joe,
About your beau,
And your long-time foe,
But this so-called knowledge,
Is likely laced with lies,
Just half-truths,
The rest of which,
You’ve chosen to blind your eyes.

Knowing everyone’s complete history,
What they may have done,
And how they actually feel,
It would change both your stories,
And neither of you will ever know,
If it would cause the other,
To become cheery or sorry.

A silver lining……….
Not all untold thoughts,
Are ones that bring things,
Such as shame or strife,
Some if you were to find out,
Would probably change for the better,
Your whole way or walk of life.

For sure,
If more people,
Would become less paranoid,
And make their thoughts speakable,
Rather than keep them classified,
It’s possible we’d attract more like minds,
And with one another,
Become overjoyed,
Rather than always being annoyed.

.

Made Possible By Snowmen

A Christmas wreath,
Flying through the air like a frisbee,
Grabbed by an unseen hand,
Settled on top of,
A pudgy snowman.

The snowman shook her head,
She was confused,
Feeling something around her head,
She reached up to unseat it,
But it had become fused.

Her head began to tingle,
Where the wreath sat,
And then the bells attached,
The wind made them start to jingle.

Every year,
The very same wreath,
Floats down from the air,
And picks out a snowman,
To help with Mrs. Santa’s Plan.

Someone at the North Pole needs a snowman,
One that isn’t made,
Of their magic snow,
So Mrs. Clause sends out this wreath,
To gather one that she can’t reach.

During Mr. Clause’s,
Christmas Eve run,
Mrs. Santa has things,
She needs to get done,
For something in particular,
She’ll need the help of this one.

You see snow from the outside,
Is the only thing,
That can make things go unseen,
And she wants to hide.

No!
It’s not like that!
She’s not doing anything shady,
But those elves are nosy,
And she wants time to herself,
For a cozy evening,
Like a regular old lady.

So up and away,
Flew the snowman,
And when she landed,
In that Far North Land,
She was greeted by the twin,
Of Santa’s famous deer Vixen.

“My Lord”!
She exclaimed,
Upon looking around,
“I’ve never seen,
So many like myself before”!

“Ah, but they’re not like you”,
Said the twin of Vixen,
“Ours are made with stuff magical,
And cannot do the job,
We’ve collected you to do”.

And so in the short time it took,
To deliver her,
To the Clause’s door,
He provided swiftly,
A brief North Pole history.

Mrs. Clause heard them coming,
And threw open the door,
Calling out a merry greeting,
Around the mouthful of Christmas cookie,
She was eating.

Now Vixen’s twin plodded off,
And the non-magical snowman,
Was left with just Mrs. Clause,
Who explained she needed a night to relax,
A total break,
From the whole Christmas act.

“The elves would take this as a sign,
Of great disrespect,
And my husband would worry,
I wasn’t taking our job seriously,
So year after year,
I bring one of you here,
For the snow you’re made of,
Gives off a poison shine,
And if elves look upon it,
Their eyes go temporarily blind”.

So the non-magical snowman,
Was asked by Mrs. Clause to guard,
Posted right at the property’s edge,
So the elves’ views of the place,
For the next twenty-four hours,
Would be barred.

All throughout the coming day,
That woman had a ball,
She had,
After all,
Waited a whole year,
For this day to fall.

Half was spent lazing about,
Watching un-Christmassy things on her telly,
Then she cooked and ate unhealthy cuisine,
Like sausages with sour kraut,
Before taking time out,
To read a book,
Instead of being,
The elves’ cook.

Peeking out her front window,
She saw the non-magical snowman,
Was still there keeping watch,
But the time was up,
On this trick,
She must get ready,
For the arrival of St. Nick.

It would be another year,
Before she would again be clear,
Of dear Mr. Clause,
And before he showed his face,
The evidence of what happens in his wake,
She must be sure to erase.

For of course Santa Himself,
Would be able to see through,
The non-magical snowman,
As he’s much more powerful than an elf.

Let me tell you gladly,
It does not end badly,   
For those flown in to assist,
Mrs. Santa makes damn sure,
They are compensated for helping her,
She turns them magical,
Rather than returning them,
To where the first sign of warmth,
Would have them die a death most tragical.