Reeling

Something's been up with reality. It seems to have lost some tenacity.
Reality sits in a reel and appeals that it's less real.
The appeal to be real reels and ends in a fatality.
Colours and shapes always show - even through a haze, a definite glow.
Just out of reach, like they're there, but not. Like fairies that would disappear when caught.
Something's been up with reality. It's losing some fatality.

Morning form

Come now, there must be more of my heart I can outpour.
This form grants such fluidity, yet direction and solidity.
The morning blooms bright and shiny, far from glooms and demons, whiny.
The sun is high, in a crystal sky; the leaves are lush with a full, fresh green. The day ahead is far from bed: it begins to catch the dreams one's seen.
Yellow flowers in the garden, at a height of a full six feet, say, "The nightly dark, we pardon and have come, the dawn to meet."

Form

It's sad to see my blog shrivel. (I'll not say die, in denial.)
I say I look to be inspired, but of the muses, I find none. I say the world is way too wired. The blame game is just no fun.
Perhaps an exploration of a new form and style will lead to inspiration from within, at least, a while.
As I write, I like the flow, I feel the energy slowly grow. A budding blossom from a storm: inspiration from a form.

Dot, the I

I'm standing out on Neptune, the outermost world.

Pluto's a hop away, where I sleep, soft and curled.

I look deep to the distant land where rumor says is origin.

I look out to open space and wonder where... where else I've been.

Space-time curves down to Sol.

Shouldn't it rather lead to a soul?

I can be lord, I can be master, I can serve them without a wince.

I am a god, I am the devil, like so many, I am the Prince.

Lunch

An elderly man sat across the table.
(This actually happened, it isn't a fable)
He placed the order for his food -
Finger Chips! (Perhaps a fast. Perhaps a mood.)


The waiter then noticed the small box emerge.
He was trained about scamsters - Oh! What a scourge!
"No external food!", he said pointing to the box.
He had caught the man red-handed - the wily fox!


The old man smiled, wrinkling his features.
He said, "My boy, these are my dentures."

Mo-mint

Give me a moment.

Give me a mint.

Forget the hues,

give me a tint.

Forget a laugh, I'll take a smile.

They're what add up to joy in a while.

Bumpy roads, here's an ode.

Bumpy road to everwhere.

Roads quite bumpy.

The rhythm's mad, if you care:

One, in three-and-twenty.

Drive over the nasty bumps;

Leave them be.

Leave the bumps in the dumps;

Leave them be.

Don't worry: rock or sand;

Leave them be.

Don't worry; paws or hands;

Leave them be.

Don't look for fur or blood;

Leave them be.

Move on from eyes with mud;

Leave them be.

Let them go, the tears and smiles;

Leave them be.

A mere ponder on cunning wiles;

Leave them be.

They're from a different world, so

Leave them be.

We're here so we can go.

Leave them be.

They were born to a different route;

Leave them be.

Worrying how to help is moot;

Leave them be.

Leave them be; the wise have said,

Leave them be.

They're not alive; bumps are dead.

Leave them be.

Sometimes

Knotty, sometimes nice.
Sugar, sometimes spice.
Lemons, sometimes tarts.
Bitter, sometimes hearts.
Comfort, sometimes numbs.
Toast, sometimes crumbs.
Think, sometimes a thought.
Stink, sometimes a pot.
Bottle, sometimes a-void.
Pink, sometimes Floyd.

Tuesday

An idol Tuesday
is now away.
Or was it an idle one?
(if you'll pardon the pun)
Hardly, given
that I'd driven
from the wrong side of the tracks
to the posh chateaus, and back,
trying to churn
some bread to earn.

Today's batter
is next month's dough.
Ideas matter,
but also whom you know.
There were slips.
Focus on one hand
and the balance tips.
The trick is to understand
and pull up before the ship dips.

It ended well,
with the smell
of a decent wine;
decent, less than fine.

Also
a film named after the big 'O',
good company,
KFC,
and four ladies, lovely,
in my chat window.

:)

Imagine...

Imagine,
if Lennon
had not died,
and succeeded
in changing
the world, the way he tried.

Imagine,
if Chapman
had been the one to die
or missed
reading
the Catcher in the rye.

If John and Yoko had stayed in that night;
if David and Kathryn had worked on their plight;
if the vacuum hose pipe had not disintegrated;
if while jumping off Liberty's Statue, he had not hesitated;

Could John have stopped
a single soldier?
Could John have prevented
a single war?
Could he have brought forth
just one more pacifist?
Could his words have impacted
even a single terrorist?

The thing is, we'll never know;
it's the road not taken.
At the altar of psychosis,
a great mind was forsaken.

Many miss you John.
Peaceful slumber!
Your brief lessons,
we'll try to remember.