Undefined

Black and white,
Black for wrong,
And white for right,
But there are things that aren’t fitting,
Of any category,
Every part of life,
Has that gray area,
Where there are exceptions,
And depending on one’s perception,
The deed may garner glory,
Or it may be a deception.

Say a person,
Goes out one night,
And is involved,
In a fight,
It resulted,
In a death,
But no one knows,
That the supposed victim,
Manufactured meth,
That killed the friend,
Of the one we now seek,
To apprehend.

It’s an area,
That can cause hysteria,
Nothing’s black or white,
It’s all ill-defined,
And confuses the mind.

It’s gray,
Where things could sway,
And play either way,
No one’s certain,
Thoughts of which side of the fence,
A verdict could fall,
Leave everyone in suspense.

You’re in between,
Saying yes or no,
It could  spawn nothing,
But it may cause a row,
Maybe no one else would recommend it,
How will you know though,
If you don’t give it a go?

Imagine saying no,
But you said yes,
To that potential beau,
Whether it’s bad or good,
Is as of now a bit fuzzy,
Yes it went,
Against the rules,
But it hurt no one,
And not to do it,
Would have made you a fool.

So you don’t follow the crowd,
And to the majority,
You make no sense,
You live life,
Off the straight and narrow,
It’s not exactly proper,
But neither is it,
Exactly unlawful,
Would you rather hide in a shroud?
Or stand up straight and be proud?

You’ve always said you would never,
But never say never,
Because well,
Maybe,
If it was one hell,
Of a worthwhile endeavor,
Hey that’s that gray area,
Coming into play,
So……….just……….whatever.

Weird, But It Works……….

Prayer and whiskey,
Does that combo sound crazy?
Oh but darling, trust me –
It works splendidly!
Now add some sunshine to that mix,
And you got perfection, bitch.

Laying in the sun,
While sipping on a strong, strong drink,
Then thought of a prayer,
Just sent it up,
And the problems disappeared,
Right into thin air.

Even if they were still there,
I would not fucking care,
I wouldn’t feel them anymore,
That’s for fucking sure.

I’ve got that whiskey numbing my blood,
And protection,
From the Lord above,
I’m golden,
Thanks to the outlets I have chosen.

Good to go,
Because I’ve let it go,
The shit show,
Has all but been forgotten,
And it’s fuckin awesome.

The Most Difficult Easy Task In The World

Sort of like the color blue,
He’s acting bold,
Kind of like navy,
Then another day,
I’d describe him as more pastel,
Listless and boring,
With nothing to say.

Snow ,
Whether slushy or fluffy,
Can be compared to her,
She’s much the same,
As the color white,
Because like that,
No matter what’s going down,
Be its consistency boring, annoying, cold, or stuffy,
Her color’s hues barely vary.

One changes face,
To fit the situation,
Everyone is a fan,
Because he always fits,
As the ideal man.

The other is the same,
One hundred percent of the time,
Always speaking her mind,
Fake is not her kind,
She cannot do it,
No matter who would approve it.

Apart anger boils,
And progress spoils,
Then when face to face,
All seems to get erased,
Brains go blank,
The only thing in mind,
Is this attraction they chase.

He feels unworthy,
Of her beauty,
Uncool and past his prime,
And that she may just want,
To bleed him out of,
His last dime.

She feels unaccomplished,
Almost stupid,
Next to him,
He’s so educated and polished,
It leaves her,
Speechless and astonished.

Each day this is left unchecked,
One or both is vexed,
Please guys,
Just meet in the middle,
Once and for all,
Resolve this riddle.

Bonfires And Wildfires

This is what it’s like, 

To be a flame,

Powerful, mighty,

And entirely untamed.

Hott as I dance,

Purposely putting on a show of destruction,

I am great fun for everyone,

But once in awhile,

That’s not my style,

I get angry and engulf,

Whatever’s in my sights,

For miles and miles.

Lo and behold,

Rains have been scarce,

Now’s the time,

For me to show I can be fierce,

I took hold,

With just a stray spark,

And it won’t take long,

For me to leave,

My devastating mark.

When I’m contained,

I’m pretty and fascinating,

You’re safe to sit at my side,

I’ll be warming and calming,

Not causing pain,

As you’re at my reins.

How can a thing,

One and the same,

Be wild and hair-raising,

Then painted in another light,

Be a most welcome sight?

Well I can have no boundaries,

And consume a whole wood or town,

Or stay within,

Walls you’ve laid down.

Live Music Experience

It’ll help,
It’ll heal,
It’s the real deal,
It’ll show you how you ought to feel.

There’s no room for bullshit,
Just straight up and here to fix your problems,
I swear it,
By the time they’re done,
You won’t even remember it.

Let it enter in your ears,
And saturate your brain,
I promise,
It’ll stop you from going insane.

So fierce you can feel it,
Even the gentlest of beats,
Your whole body will absorb it,
Starting with your feets,
And settling in your heart of hearts.

Get lost in it,
To fully find yourself,
Shady shit will melt away,
Because you came here today.

The invisible vibrations,
Are loud enough to deafen you,
Trust me,
This is what you need,
For your brain and soul to feed.

It’ll never disappoint,
You’ll walk away satisfied,
Your mind has finally spied,
That which you have been denied.

Old Hat

I’m sitting here wondering why,

People put an expiration date,

On something not brand new,

How is it not still great?

And not still worth its weight in gold?

Do you have an answer?

Or will your mouth just continue to hammer?

At what age does this classic,

Become trash to fill a sack?

Is it actually,

Without a doubt,

Truly fucking worn out?

Or  might you be kind of close-minded,

Just following the twisted thinking,

Of your fellow mankind?

Antique to me means much,

Not out dated at all,

And as such,

I’ll keep a hold on it,

Because an original,

Versus a copycat,

Why the fuck,

Would I give up that?

Old fashioned,

Isn’t necessarily behind the times,

No need to pawn it off for cash,

Anyway,

When did gaining another year become a crime?

A heirloom, a treasure, a relic,

Not ancient or creaky or clunky,

It shouldn’t be cast as an outcast,

To a pile of unacceptable junk,

But be a collector’s item,

To be recycled,

To brighten your days,

And to remind you of the good old ways.

Lock, Stock, And Barrel

What is 100 proof?

It is full strength,

Not watered down,

Not diluted.





100 proof,

Comes off as in-your-face,

It is flamboyant,

And not for the faint of heart.





If angst is inside,

It should fucking shine,

Not be kept bottled up inside,

So others won’t think you corrupt,

But the same can be said,

For experiencing joy or pain,

And even of feeling mundane.





Own yourself,

At 100 proof,

Don’t go all lame,

To become a crowd pleaser,

Camouflage,

To acquire an unnecessary entourage –

……….That’s just too fucking ridiculous.





Not many can take me,

At 100 proof,

They expect everyone and everything,

To be just like them,

To speak and act and react,

A replica of what they would,

Newsflash motherfuckers,

I’m not a brainless block of wood!





There’s many things,

That come 100 proof,

People, faith, and alcohol,

Do you have it?

Can you take it?

Or will the trust put in you be shaken?

Thanksgiving, Under The Influence Of Jameson And Fireball

I think sometimes it’s actually easier,

To list the things for which I’m ungrateful,

Than to think of some, 

For which I am thankful.

 

But today being what it is,

I’ll do my best to turn that around,

And prove to the world,

I’m not completely upside down.

 

I’m happy with my loyal friends,

Who are my actual family,

Despite the fact that my blood,

Tends to treat me like crud.

 

I’m happy I’ve moved on,

From psycho ex bastards,

Despite the fact that if I’m not careful,

It will lead straight to my next disaster.

 

I’m happy to be a stunning beauty,

Boasting both muscles and femininity,

Despite the fact the nasties in nightclubs,

Sicken me by blatantly grabbing my booty.

 

I’m happy that the weekend,

Is always guaranteed to come around,

Despite the fact that it always ends,

With another hellish week,

Waiting right around the bend.

 

I’m happy to have my doggie,

To keep away the dangers,

Despite the fact that she also scares away,

Some who are far from strangers.

 

I’m happy I live,

In a land with endless summer,

Despite the fact that all the sweating,

Is a real bummer.

 

I’m happy I have talent,

That is artful and creative,

Despite the fact that all the left-brainers,

Think of me as insane.

 

I’m happy my pony,

Awaits me in Heaven,

Despite the fact that thinking of her,

Makes the Earth seem slightly lonely.

 

I’m happy I have a job,

That pays enough to buy a good life,

Despite the fact the hellhole,

Is so full of strife.

 

I’m happy I’m not easily brainwashed,

By the leftist media,

Despite the fact that blindly believing,

When they pout and shout,

Would be an easy way out.

 

I’m happy I live in the age,

With plastic surgery,

Despite the fact that recovery,

Is temporary misery.

 

At the moment,

This is all I see,

Maybe there is more,

But at present,

This is all that is transparent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.