24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Sometimes i feel like a leaf, being blown through the wind
Sometimes I feel like I can’t change the flow of my life
I feel like I can’t change my pace in this world that I face
But somehow I’ve got to know what i need to change
I’ve the high and lows and all those red letter days
All the good and bad and otherwise a man could face
Times they have been rough, somehow they have made me tough
And I think i now know what i need to change
And now i can reach the pinnacle of my life
Dearly Beloved
We have gathered her today to solve a problem
Or at least
We were
But you all could not work together for five minutes
Your attitudes, your selfishness
You are ruining this
Can’t you see this is bigger than all of us?
Don’t you care that if we fix this, there is no tomorrow?
The world is ending
THE WORLD IS ENDING
Your problems are nothing
Your egos are nothing
Shut up
Shut up for five goddamn seconds
Listen to the earth
It is screaming at us
Screaming that it will destroy us
You think our mother will weep for us when we are gone?
When the parasites that have been trying to kill her since our first breath are finally extinct?
We have gathered here today to solve a problem
But none of you even showed up.
Speak now, or forever hold your piece
Because soon, we will all be gone.
We often look for someone to blame
for we need to cover up our shame
to family and friends
we find only dead ends
and our arse is all alone in the flame.
Hour Nine
Half Magic
My life has been a carrot, erupting though dirt.
I first was a sprig of green, blown by wind.
Then my crown pushed up to reveal
a much bigger me, coated in dirt
that knew I was part of a field
other carrots all around, not alone.
Sun and rain fed me, made me strong.
I was self-sustaining and certain.
No one told me about rabbits
or farmers with hoes.
…and now this happy story turns to
one of woe.
Our planet is being destroyed In rocks and fire and flame The moon itself has ceased to exist The why leaves us no one to blame. Only a few of the people who live Will have the chance to survive. They will live and work in space In a station for the rest of their lives. Many conflicts arise in space Lives and order torn apart. The men and women on the ship Have to make a brand new start. No help will come from the planet The world they knew is gone. No help will come from anywhere Nothing left of all they’ve known. Time flies on and eventually Eight women left to keep the race Alive and well and going on Though one can only help the pace. The seven women push humankind Into the next centuries… Then milleniums. In the distant future, the human race survives Thanks to the seven eves efforts Who ensured it with their lives. The planet is finally habitable And so some people go Down to the surface far from space To see what they can know. A lot of change has happened And the people are aware How those seven women gave all For a world that was no longer there.
Writing is a solitary endeavor.
Whether in your room or in a public space,
you are in your own head
creating worlds out of electrical impulses
and words.
Sure, you look outward.
You listen.
You even converse,
then take it all home with you,
or to the diner where you work,
your coffee going cold as you write.
Publishing is a social exercise.
What you wrote in private
becomes public. For a poet especially,
there are no secrets.
How do we navigate both worlds,
come to terms with the self’s two halves?
The name makes me think of a place where everything is green and grows larger than life.
But it’s a wondrous place, with magical, mysterious, miracles.
The fish breathe the air while they hunt on land. Human-kind is not immune from being hunted and are no longer the apex predators.
Life as we know it takes on a new and mystical meaning, of unheard of regeneration and flesh eating plants that seem to have a brain and think individually.
Will you go there? Will you go alone? Only you can make that decision.
instructions for spiritual living
Walking hand in hand
the sky and land
become one
Universe sees itself
Through
your eyes.
You are
the composer
Maker of your
own reality,
Your destiny
Work in tune
And Harmony
with nature
Looking down
at the path
We get indications
of obstacles
and objects that you
shouldn’t step on
Not to dismiss
the path to
awakening
believing that
ego-self is
all there is
The neighborhood was older, when the newlyweds moved in,
There was an age difference with the children,
When the young family did begin.
The land of make believe, became a refuge to pretend.
The adventures in Narnia was a gift quite heaven sent.
A brother and a sister, reading about siblings that were four,
Though they squabbled and had hardships,
They found strength not found before.
Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter faced hardships,
More than they dreamed were true.
Learning of Aslan they found themselves,
Though their trials they really grew.
Not a wardrobe in the house, a few closets failed the test,
No door to Narnia found, though their imaginations were the best.
YES, it is true I am a combination
Like you I am an angel and a demon
A yin and a yang a black and a white
A mixture of a wrong and a right
Some days I’m easy at times I’m complicated
I won’t deny sometimes I’m doubted
Because I change my mind so quick
My moods depend on every flick
‘Cause I’m a woman who thinks a lot
Who won’t give up without a fight
I would debate before giving in
But I’ll accept mistakes within
I give respect to one who’s due
Earn it well if it’s for you
A high regard from me you’ll get
As long as you are doing great
Because we are all combinations
Of everything in moderations
And just like you yes I am one
Sometimes an angel sometimes a demon