Sweet or Tart

Beyond reach & reason & above reproach,
I put worry to the tests of experience
where clarity is both friend & foe
and memory challenges the present
to a battle of wit & wisdom,
where neither can emerge as victor,
evenly matched with poison pens
as weapon of choice where domination doesn’t matter
if seen in proper perspective,
for we must surely have learned by now
the advantage comes from how you play the game
faithful to our mission as masters of our fate

Food for Thought: Feast or Famine

Life is a gift
– a tool or a toy –
Enjoying all the perks it affords
– such is the way of the world –

When the juices are flowing
– we can’t get enough of it –
Alternating signals poke & prod us
– stirring the emotional broth of inconsistency –

In the din of small talk & laughter
– nobody knows the source of matter –
One’s focus comes & goes
– as the river veers from its appointed course –

Rethinking Eternity
– where is it we go from here –
Can we banish our fears
– ready to accept Life’s ultimate progression –

My Winsome Loneliness

Born to follow your lead, an icy wind a-blowin’…
Alone in the refrigerator of my dreams…
I’m playing the critic, taken for a fool…
Compromise & negotiations coated with rust…

We, the mad scientist – penitent thief – a visionary’s approach
gleaning facts from amongst propositional gibberish
Remembering always, always, lead with your heart
head held high

Been Conversing with the Devil, you say?

Our future relies on what we do & say today,
what we keep & what we give away,
playing harmless head games amongst ourselves
passing time in a most peculiar way

And it’s an easy leap to reach the next level,
peeling back layer upon layer of complaints,
revealing the inner core of our existence
in a unified individuality of a spotless plot

Pointless acts of aggression divide the many,
motivated to equate folly with an excess of loss,
planting seeds of malcontent with the status quo
waiting for the chance to reacquaint oneself with The Fates

Escaping the mundane is not a viable option, no matter its due,
some days are tedious, like it or not, so stand ready to pause,
for progress comes slow or fast, constructed to last
and we are sequentially challenged to act our part

Ideally we’ll rally for a common cause,
each unit acting as component parts of a mature whole,
stretching the truth to fit the sculptor’s mold of society
with all the significance of a warm day in Hell
[composed in the waiting room for the Psychiatrist & a new script]