Our Association To The Ocean

While looking out,

Over the ocean,

I was wishing I could bottle some up,

Kind of like a little potion,

But after thinking that through –

It’s not necessary,

As there’s something ocean-like,

Already inside of you.

 

Every day we make waves,

Some on the surface,

And others internal,

Ourselves we may not realize,

But when seen through another’s eyes,

They move a bunch of life’s bits,

Causing eternal changes,

To happen in every size.

 

Each and every one of us is powerful,

In body,

In mind,

Or in both combined,

In some it’s kept hidden,

Then in others it shows,

Whether it’s been brandished,

Or has snuck out unbidden.

 

We can all be colorful,

And yes sometimes that’s wonderful,

Though at other times,

Not so much,

Maybe our good moods,

Are like the Caribbean Sea,

Beautiful,

Translucent,

And aquamarine,

And our bad moods,

Are like the Bay of Biscay,

Dark,

Stormy,

And seeking prey.

 

Woven here and there throughout humanity,

Something sure smells fishy,

Of course I mean that figuratively,

I am referencing those with salty personalities,

Hence is the notion,

That they’re like the ocean.

 

 

 

Before

What is done,

And what should be done,

Too many times,

Are two different things.

 

Life at this time,

Has lost its shine,

Do people’s dirty little tricks,

Too make your stomach sick?

 

Let us rewind,

Hundreds of years,

So as to get away,

From so many vile liberal minds.

 

I’ve been known to wonder,

Why wasn’t I born,

Way back when?

Eventually though,

It’s concluded,

That I was,

But then,

Like everyone does,

I was reincarnated,

Time and again,

Until now here I am,

Part of this modern world,

That’s congested with hatred.

 

How many previous,

Lives did I lead?

What did I get up to?

And did I succeed?

Does that even matter?

To these I’ve no answer.

 

I’m sure there were many,

Some in the times when being rich,

Required barely more than a penny,

And other souls were so far off,

That a walk to visit neighbors,

Would wear a hole in one’s socks.

 

I hereby suggest someone,

Invent a spell,

That can take a body back,

To when things were simple,

To when for the most part,

Society was civil,

Rather than sinful.

 

I beg of you,

Let me go back,

To whenever it was,

That my first life was lived,

Modern conveniences be damned,

The peace would more than make up,

For what I would lack.

 

 

 

 

 

Independence Day 2020

The Earth is beautiful,

But the World is one hot mess,

Are we all fuct?

Have you all given up?

 

Because I was born,

The same way I’ll die,

And that is free,

One hundred percent,

Not just to some degree.

 

Some people seem to know,

Just what buttons to press,

To start another war,

It about makes me envious,

Of those about to go knocking,

On death’s door.

 

Before all the land was settled up,

The pioneers had the right idea,

They were wild and free,

And lived off the land,

Never submitting to laughable laws,

Of another man.

 

Slow and steady,

The years passed by,

The population grew,

And everyone thought,

They knew what was best to do.

 

Now there is this piece of shit,

Known as politics,

No matter how far you travel,

There’s no escaping it,

They’re at your local grocery store,

And at the nearby sea shore,

Face it,

Once you’ve dared,

Walk out your door,

You’re not free,

And nothing’s fair.

 

Now here I sit,

Trying to make,

Some sense of it,

It’s looking like half are lying,

Just to set the others crying,

It won’t be long,

And the tables will turn,

Somehow everybody’s right,

Though both sides say,

The other is wrong.

 

This year,

Freedom is not ringing,

It really hasn’t for some time,

Well last I checked,

My taxes are paid,

So I’ll do as I please,

In this supposed Home Of The Brave.

 

Excuses to sidepass unconstitutional rules,

Should not be essential,

And a possible arrest,

Should not even have potential,

I ask,

Why celebrate the Fourth,

If you don’t discern its worth,

And if you do indeed identify,

Rather than fall prey to political lies,

You should act free,

And you should act brave,

Until you are called,

To your grave.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Does The Wind Say?

Just like us with souls and goals,

It seems to have many sides,

Also expressed by voice,

Which we all hear,

Without much choice.

 

How good it feels,

Prancing across my skin,

As I’m outdoors soaking in sweat,

Working hard,

So as my needs will be met,

Still though,

That is not its reason,

To be out today,

It’s speaking a language,

Meant for one of its own,

Meant for another,

Of nature’s wonders.

 

Whether it’s letting out a shriek,

Or a sound almost meek,

I listen with interest,

And try to imagine,

What might have happened,

To spark its voice into action.

 

I hear it raging down the ravine,

I know it’s not talking to me,

But rather to,

The old oak tree,

Still I wonder what it’s saying,

The way I hear it howling,

It’s sounding mighty mean.

 

The other night,

It whipped around real strong,

Blowing in all directions,

Not letting up,

The whole night long,

Was it maybe forewarning a comrade,

Of some coming mourning?

 

During a storm,

Letting out ferocious gusts,

Could it just be playing rough?

Or is it emanating its power,

Over some rebel flower?

 

On a warm calm summer day,

All is still,

But the slightest whisper,

As it lightly puffs,

Not even strong enough,

To raise a cloud of dust,

Now where did that come from?

And why did it even bother?

Was it maybe murmuring some reassurance,

To the Mother Earth?

 

Down by the ocean,

It’s heard loud and clear,

In the lap of the waves,

Against the shore,

When its voice gets louder,

The waves pound fiercer and faster,

Showing the world,

Just whose voice here is master.

 

 

Reality

Here in the real world,

It’s too busy for Christmas,

Too busy for the Claus’s,

Mister and Missus.

 

Out here in the real world,

There’s money to make,

The world for us revolves around work,

And there’s no time to take,

Holiday breaks.

 

Here it is,

February now,

And I know it’s way past time,

But here in the real world,

I’m just now finding a minute,

To put pen to paper,

For a Christmassy rhyme.

 

Sugar cookies never did,

Go into the oven,

No stockings were hung,

Or carols sung,

Here in the real world,

It’s not important to build traditions,

For we are all on a mission,

That holidays don’t seem to fit in.

 

Seasonal frippery,

And packages full of mystery,

Under a flashy tree,

Aren’t part of the real world,

Here we barely notice,

That these things have come to be regarded,

As a great importance.

 

Here in the real world,

We’re generally busy,

With no spare time to prepare,

A monstrous feast,

So we gladly give a miss,

To the customary gathering,

Where anyway there is always,

Too much blabbering.

 

Out there in your world,

Christmas is a big priority,

And you view those over here,

As some kind of freak minority,

With kiddies to raise,

And memories to be made,

Presents must be present,

From wall to wall,

So you buy out the whole mall,

But here in the real world,

We have other things that please us,

And it’s not feasible,

To deal with such fuss.

 

 

 

 

 

Aloha, Autumn!

I have no favorite season at all,

But right now,

My season of choice is Fall,

And here she is,

So let’s all give her welcome,

With a bow.

 

It’s been hot as hell,

So  much so,

That I was sorely tempted,

To immerse myself,

Deep inside a well,

But now Fall’s taken over,

And brought us temperatures,

Significantly lower.

 

Yes Fall,

Has finally come to call,

Bringing pumpkin treats,

And kicking out,

Summer’s heat.

 

Summer seemed a never-ending heatwave,

And we all but boiled alive,

But thank God for Fall,

It saw to it,

That we got revived.

 

Five minutes outside,

Would produce a farmer’s tan,

Most unattractive,

On any of us humans,

Thank you Fall,

For fixing this,

Here now,

Let me blow you,

A little kiss.

 

Fall,

Is the weather’s perfect spot,

It won’t be cold,

And it won’t get hot,

There’ll be no rains,

To flood and make mud,

At the moment Fall,

Is my best bud.

 

 

 

The Proverbial Angel And Devil

There is a battle between good and evil,

It’s raging in everyone’s soul,

It takes two halves,

To make any of us whole,

It goes a little like this:

“Do this,

Or I’ll get pissed”!

And,

“No! Please!

Don’t listen to that!

I smell a rat”!

 

These two whisper battles,

Day in,

And day out,

Trying to win my affections,

So I’ll follow their directions.

 

One so bad,

He should make me mad,

But when he speaks,

I hear happy squeaks,

The opposite so good,

I should maybe knock on wood,

For when he says walk,

I cheerily ask,

For guidance to his flock.

 

I’d be better off,

As a one-man show,

But in each situation,

Inside my skull,

My conscience hears two little voices,

That just won’t dull.

 

What the fuck?

Is there a way,

To shut them up?

They’ve been keeping everyone company,

Since the Dawn Of Time,

Shouldn’t they have expired by now?

I’d think they should be,

Way past their prime.

 

I picture the one having horns,

Bearing a black pitchfork,

The other wearing a white robe,

With twinkling stars,

Hanging from delicate earlobes.

 

They represent the two main things,

That drive this world,

Wicked and righteous,

And as thoughts of both,

Course through all our minds,

It would seem we are all one part sinister,

And another part divine.

 

Does either one,

Ever win?

Can one being be,

One hundred percent,

Just goodness or sin?

I’d say no one is perfect,

We’re really each a mix,

Of halos and that creepy,

Six-six-six.

 

 

 

We Frustrate Me

Nothing but distaste,

For the human race,

When further I think on it,

The more the hate,

Picks up the pace.

 

They strive to thrive,

Headfirst they dive,

Into normalcy,

Also known as crazy,

And what a waste,

It’s not as though,

They’re leaving alive.

 

Flitting about here and there,

And most don’t care,

About a thing,

Unless it’s theirs,

And even then,

It’s hard for some,

Not to act like scum.

 

The other day,

I was at the store,

Everyone was there,

Rich and poor,

Saints and whores,

As well as everything between,

After looking high,

And looking low,

They all had,

One thing in common though,

They all needed something,

Their money couldn’t buy.

 

I’m sick of dealing,

With them and their issues,

There’s the alcoholics,

And there’s the apostolics,

Some are even diabolical,

I wonder,

When the fuck,

Did this psycho mix,

Become typical?

 

Let me tell you,

The whole lot is fuct,

If they keep waiting around,

For a run of good luck,

We each make or break our own fortune,

No one is immune,

Now quit looking so god-damn forlorn,

And go grab a new life,

By the horns.

 

Are you wondering when,

I’ll make my point?

There isn’t one,

Yet this wasn’t written,

Just for the fun.

 

 

 

The Mighty One-Man Cartel

They’re all untrustworthy and slimy,

If you fuck with them,

Your life is destined to become grimy,

It’s said don’t ever trust a dealer,

Not any one,

Not any kind,

Although one exception,

Does come to mind.

 

These guys like to hide,

And send others out to risk their hides,

But while his abode is hidden too,

You can deal with him directly,

This one’s not inaccessible to you.

 

This dealer deals in miracles,

Not at all like those who peddle,

The addictions we’re used to buying,

And he advertises honestly,

They’re never laced or watered down,

And then sold by lying,

Plus there is the perk,

That the price is free.

 

He’d rather deal out free love,

Than make a fortune selling drugs,

And if you cannot pay,

He will not order you slain,

Instead you will be smothered,

In a never-ending hug.

 

When he goes out gambling,

It’s not cards he’s dealing,

And he won’t be risking dollars,

He’s unquestionably there to place a bet though,

He’s betting he will,

Save your soul.

 

There is no need to speak in riddles,

As what he’s got,

Is not contraband,

To him you can plainly speak,

Ask him straight-out,

For whatever it is you seek,

For though it’s a sort of black-market,

Nothing he deals can be banned.

 

Any time,

Anywhere,

Any kind,

He does not care,

Most assuredly,

If you’re experiencing a withdrawal,

Know that it will take no time at all,

For him to meet you there.

 

You won’t have to chase him down,

While he’s selling coke or toke,

All around the town,

He’s got a better product,

And he knows right when and where you need it,

And instead will hunt you down.

 

Indeed,

It sounds so good,

How can it be true?

But give him a try anyway,

You’ll be happy when,

He answers you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sooner Or Later, It’s Inevitable

I feel a storm’s brewing,

Bye-bye to rainbows and unicorns,

Trust me now,

Trouble’s coming.

 

Things have been going far too good,

To stay like this for always,

I’m betting soon,

My mind’s happy song,

Will sound instead,

Like a troubled gong.

 

I should wonder what this trial shall be,

And how long it will linger beside me,

But I’ll try not to give a damn,

Or let it ruin what I am.

 

Everything’s smooth sailing for me now,

Too much to spell out here,

Now I wonder,

If I had to choose,

In which area of my world,

Would I be willing to begin feeling the blues?

 

Maybe it’s for good,

That we don’t get much for clues,

When a storm is on the move,

Because for real,

Who knows what we’d do,

If we could  better sense,

When rough seas were due?

 

Let’s hope the winds aren’t too wild,

And that anything not easily resolved,

Is not at all involved,

As I don’t want to smother,

Before I have recovered.

 

When it finally shows its ugly self,

And carefully laid plans,

Start whirling and twirling,

I’ll refashion things,

Into a new and appealing pearl,

Using just,

Good old brains and hands.