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Poems ect.
Adoration
To lean gently upon him awhile
To take his hand, his counsel
To rest one happy moment with him
To release a hundred meaningless concerns
To be still and to be quiet
To listen into the Void
To learn of a thousand things
Never heard before
Hands and Shoes
Hands provide connections
And bridge generations.
Shoes provide protections
For the journey’s directions.
The universe has no preferences.
It does not choose good, evil, happiness, or sadness.
And perhaps this is precisely what destabilizes us:
the idea that evil can happen without a reason.
Without a message. Without a plan.
Yet, as human beings, we seek meaning in everything.
We need stories to...
PANEL 1:
INT. CREIGHTON WARD MANSION - LADY PENELOPE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
Lady Penelope is breathing because she is in labour and she's giving birth to her new baby. Parker is desperately trying to help her. She is screaming and groaning in pain.
LADY PENELOPE
NNNNNRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH...
Late diagnosis like a huge exhale,
The realisation you weren't a fail.
A rush, a hit, a powerful drug.
Knowing you're not just a useless lug.
First that initial trepidation,
Even denial and obfuscation.
"That's not me, I'm not autistic.
I can't believe that that's realistic."
It's only on...
Words are our pleasure,
Words are our gain.
And yet are dishonest,
Oft bringing pain.
Words are too vague,
Unclear definitions.
Often they're given,
Their own renditions.
And what happens when,
One word can mean any.
Put two together,
And meaning's are many.
And this becomes worse,
When the...
I'd never call it poetry, it's only just a rhyme.
That way I can flunk it, pretty near most of the time.
Poetry is art, fine and full of feeling.
Mine's more like a fart, the smell will leave you reeling.
I wonder if I relish, making awful verse.
I suspect the rest of you will only see a curse...
Number 10 Through The Looking Glass!
The time has come, the PM said,
To talk of one or two things.
Of vile folk (his voice did croak),
And how corrupt are Kings?
And why we'd vote for an evil goat,
While tied like puppets on strings?
The voters cried "We'll walk with you"
"You speak to us so...
With rotors which intrepidly revolve
Crashing through deserts like a meteor
Broken heart in a choking interior
Blind watches measured the creator
Boxes of lamb and unseen light
Where should the idea itself fly
To tame and to grow and try
To help rejuvenate these poisoned minds
Asking as if...
Being young
Being wild
Chasing dreams
Feels alive
Underneath the stars
Dancing only starts
When we set it free
Will this always be?
But even the life
If I realized
On a hill up high
Would it be all right?
And yet I
Feeling the rhythm and lines
And yet I
Feeling the marching and heart...
The clouds are rolling in from up high
Gray and heavy smoke covers the skies
The world's got darker and colder fast
But I believe it is unshaken
After the rainfall and the rest
The world will awaken again
The slumber will fade and go away
It will all change into bright and green
The storm...
Love your mistakes, for that's all it takes,
To reach some enlightenment.
For each one you make is like tastiest cake,
Or wine with a perfect ferment.
Because so you see, eventually,
It's only by making these bloomers.
That you'll ever learn, to thus overturn,
The mistakes of the other...
The thought that I repeat myself,
Is driving me to tears,
It has to be among the,
Very greatest of my fears!
It's something that intrudes so much,
When talking oft to others.
I'd really rather opt to find,
A deafness of my druthers.
For ignorance is bliss they say,
And this one doth intrude...
The elephants in the room,
The one's are ever outside.
The one's as quiet as the tomb,
The one's they can't abide.
We're the one percenters,
We're the blackest of the sheep.
We're the great dissenters,
We're the one's who'll never sleep.
Why are we the who of this,
Why are we the chosen.
Why...
The elephants in the room,
The one's are ever outside.
The one's as quiet as the tomb,
The one's they can't abide.
We're the one percenters,
We're the blackest of the sheep.
We're the great dissenters,
We're the one's who'll never sleep.
Why are we the who of this,
Why are we the chosen.
Why...