Crack off ya quakkers
frack off Peter Glutton
as you know- there’s more than tres effies
You got Peter Glutton, Jimmy not a Fallon
and the Letterman spacemen
but Musky, Gill Bates & Fuckerberg aren't the main
culprits of the melting icebergs
so let us come together to spread love not hate
I’m talking about a bit of peace and unity
where you can be free to be who you are
not what others want you to be
so let Jeff Bezos put the besos into Bezos
cas he’s not one of them

In my mind religion
has no place or time.
I've forgiven everyone
in the race that I've run.

This is just my point of view
bridges have been burned.
People in their lves
don't seem to have the time.

They just can't sit and talk
to comfort an old friend.
With thier stale trite sentences
nothing can be done.

Maybe if they'd change their tone
I could divert my own mind.
Back to a more peaceful time
when it had more meaning.

My song is yet unsung!..

My chance to sing
Came through another person
Who needed a life-giving operation
And I was tapped to replace this person.

My connection with this person
Is very strong.
I almost feel
As if
This person's strength
Has passed onto me.

In a very real way
I must work hard
To earn this person's respect.

In doing so,
I am acknowledging
My interconnection with people in the world.

I use my voice
To sing out loud
To express my strength of character

I penned the moon, a glow on winding streams,
The murmured breeze, the whispers trees would share.
Yet though the words would sketch my wistful dreams,
The rhythm wavered, drifting unaware.

I learned to lace the metaphors I spun,
To thread my thoughts through meters’ measured strands.
The moon, my muse, my mammy long since gone,
Her stories etched by these, my willing hands.

I kept trying to traverse a chasm before me,
seeking a presence I longed for, but never offered
on a barren range dotted by clouds in the distance.

It took me some time to realize
there were distances that couldn’t be reached
by trying to get there.

A MIND OF HER OWN

Yes, of course she deserves to be heard
A human being like any other of course
Well, not quite, as considered by some
By many, in fact, as in several cultures
Where men, for millennia, dominated
Yet still do, even in an enlightened age
Maybe it’s just about physical strength
Well, stamina is a different attribute
In plentiful supply in the weaker sex
Oh, did I just say weaker, I’m sorry
Strength manifests in alternate ways
With discrete and conscious thought
Every woman has a mind of her own

For everyone who has lost their way
realize the promise of Christmas Day
all those feeling crippled by fear
understand you can start life anew
by letting the Lord have you

It’s not about colored lights, holly or trees
no matter how beautiful things such as these
not about Santa, presents or snow
it’s all about knowing where you’ll go
at the appointed time to go home

Some feast on dainties, dressed in finest silk,
And travel forth towards the furthest star.
They rest on roses, bathe in whitening milk,
They're hardly touched by any worldly scar.

Some feed on scraps and bear the heavy chains,
They wander where no mirth could ever land.
They sleep on thorns to weep eternal pains,
Where utmost grief extends a hurting hand.

Shall ever I leave? No longer to stay,
Till cold darkness falls then soft, drift away;
Starlight still shall shine, moonlight still shall glow
Words ripped from the pen still onward will go
With you who have breathed fresh life to my soul
Inspired my spirit to grow as a whole.
So much do I owe, words I cannot find
To pour out my feelings to all so kind
With praise, encouragement, oft times critique
Driving me on in this land of mystique.
To Neopoet and friends discovered here
A season approaches, I wish good cheer

alternately titled: a literary retrospective when holiday times living hand to mouth in Penn Valley fraught with slim pickings and yours truly felt utterly miserable that nary a delivery from Santa Claus would be forthcoming.