These Things Matter

In his right hand sat a rifle, pointing at his kin

In the other there was powder, and it was meant for him

Turn the clock back and these two brothers who had played

Never would have seen this coming as they grew and aged

 

What is it that we need? Why must we always fight?

When instead we could be ironing our differences at night?

You know that it’s a feeling, and you know I feel it too

I can’t explain the things I see or things that people do

 

What is it that you’re thinking?

What is it that you’ve seen?

My brother, please don’t let the world get

Caught up in between

 

Every struggle, I have seen it

Every loss, I shall regret

But you and I are here now

And our cause we can’t forget

 

Listen to the violin, its strings are being played

Freedom wasn’t given, there was blood when it was paid

Do not forget the ones who wept to make this sacrifice

Because today we need a way to get back what is right

 

In my right hand sits a pencil, I point it at my kin

If I could write that things are right, you know I would give in

It hurts to know that I can’t though, this world is split in two

And I shall fight until it’s right…because she’d want me to

You Might Be A Writer If…

“All real writers are published”

Hang on a second, that statement’s wrong!

What say you of bloggers, huh?

Can poets not come tag along?

“Ha! We scoff with tilted heads”

“Real writers do those on the side”

“We know that true art lies in sales”

“For money validates our stride”

“So please, a blogger? Some stupid poem?”

“You think that these can pay the bills?”

“Don’t make me laugh, you amateur”

“Just the thought gives me the chills”

Bite your tongue, pretentious fool!

It’s not for funds, why true arts made

Passion, love guides pen and brush

‘Tis by-product, when we get paid

And cut! Fake convo ends as Matt chimes in

On wars of words, “label” affairs

I cannot help but ask them this:

WHO THE FLY’D FUCK EVEN CARES?

 

Just shut up and write, you dweebs.

 

You Can’t Spell Fame Without Me

Sure a catchy title, no?

I mean its kind of right

Said before, I’m sure it’s so

But came to me tonight

 

Some day an agent reading a

Submission (one of mine)

Will finish it and be like “Shit!”

“This author I must sign!”

 

But then the intern (her name’s Pam)

Will come say “Time for lunch!”

As the agent says “Oh damn,”

Sets me back in the bunch

 

Getting back, she sits right down

And scratches her blank head

Says “Where was I?” with a frown

Then starts to tweet instead

 

Yes it funny, though its true

This tale that came to be

The future first is said like “few”

And fame, ends with a “me”

Torn

The world is torn, its seams are frayed

They say they’ve wished them well and prayed

So many hold opinions, strong

But words are where they stop, its wrong

 

For if the ones who claim to care

Are genuine, then where’s their fare?

What costs have they all taken on?

Outside of tweets, or Facebook pawns?

 

Let me make this very clear

My life is committed to this, hear?

My books, my poems, they share a theme

The world, it needs a better dream

 

So while you spit and spread your hate

Know your words carry no weight

Keep posting, crying, doing naught

You’re dead weight, friend, an empty pot

The Apex

Tell me what things I’ll see when I pull back the layers

What’s up in the attic while they play house down the stairs?

What person are you, when there’s no one around?

What things do you think when no one else can be found?

Your face, it is beauty, untainted and quaint

Yet what I so long for lies under the paint

Tell me your secrets, your most shrouded of truth

Its just you and I here in this cloaked confessional booth

What wants lie within, what things you desire

Confess to me love, as we light this dark fire

These embers shall burn with your innermost need

You’re mine and I’m yours, it’s a mutual greed

This night is unending, this moment so rare

Though two, we are one without boundaries to bare

And as the eclipse casts its shadow so slow

The apex we greet, with the valley below

The Ward & the Bone: 10

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The Transition has come, and the night of festivities to celebrate Grr Barker’s ascension to the Bone is at hand.

“At last, he is King!”

Drunkenly swaying through a tavern full of the finest bitches, Grr Sleepsalot wafts his bowl of ale in the air.

“To Grr Barker!!” He shouts as the tavern follows suit, all throwing back a drink of Spamalot’s finest.

Watching the drunken Bites from afar, Squirrelin retreats to his study to record the events he is witnessing.

They are merry-making, and this is acceptable, I know. Yet I cannot purge myself of the fear. I know that Corgin La Fey stirs in the East, and she will pounce at the first opportunity. Its what the Phelyons do, for reasons unknown. They pounce.  

Lo, Grr Barker’s Transition will be a tale to be told for the ages, surely. But there must be a way to focus him on the threat that brews. If left alone, he will focus on nothing other than the games and the festivities. We cannot allow this to transpire. We must focus him on the grander picture. But how? How can we divert his focus on to that which will benefit the Realm? Surely there is a way. Treats. I believe that treats will refocus Grr Barker’s attention. That’s it. I shall consult the archives. The archives always sound like they contain information that the people should know, but don’t. There is simply something about that word, archives, that sounds…informative. Yes, I shall consult the archives.

As he consults the archives, Squirrelin begins his study into what must be done to combat the coming threat. Corgin La Fey is building her forces, and as the Realm is welcoming its new King, they are oblivious to what brews in the East. Let us hope that they will eventually see reason.

Reason. That is what we should see.

The Bath of the Birds

I sit here in silence, observing the fray

They jump and they fly and they chirp and they play

No notion of others, surroundings are clear

They have no concern for the things that are near

A troupe, all together, just having some fun

Enjoying themselves now that rainfall has come

A friendship? A family? Their dynamic unknown

I’m certain of only one thing that they’ve shown

Simplicity flies in this unit of four

No worries, no stress, no rich and no poor

Their life is just that, a puddle to play

A place to post up and put worries away

And as I observe, these birds look around

They hop and they leap and leave marks on the ground

I can tell that they’re happy, such joy do they feel

As they chirp and they play, I can see it’s so real

They love one another, there’s no question of that

I can tell just by watching, it’s a sobering fact

I can’t help but wonder, as I see these birds play

Why humans can’t see things this simple today

This life wasn’t forged for such fury and fear

We were meant to be loved, all my friends, it’s so clear

Today, make a promise, I beg for your words

Reflect this world’s beauty, like this bath of the birds

My Lake Chateau

American-Revolution-Hero-H

Come my friend, its you, I know, that stands outside my Lake Chateau. I took a walk, just hours ago, and now I sit by this window. Please, my friend, I’ve something to show; come join me through the portico. Open the door – its unlocked, you know, and come share this fine, old, red Bordeaux.

There’s something that you need to see, to understand this sad world’s plea. There’s things outside that I foresee, things He’ll, sadly, guarantee. Do you see that burning tree? The wars, the death, black in the sea? The children who were slain by the melancholy and the man who was murdered for saying “I disagree?” Tell me, my friend, if this is what we should put up with without lifting our hands that are free.

I ask that again, you take a look at this place. Look out and observe all the hatred we face. Let your eyes fall upon things outside your safe space and truly grasp all the things that this world should replace. And let me say this, because just in case; its understood that people will always displace what’s right and what’s wrong but that’s no excuse – just disgrace.

A disgrace it is, that we’ve let this become a Hell for the most and a Haven for some. So few can parade, scraping up every crumb, as the patrons they need are left treated like scum. They measure one’s worth based on things, or income, and their vanity echoes like the beat of a drum. Come closer, my friend, you’ll hear irony strum, for history’s song is that the end always comes.

It comes at a time when they’ve all had enough, a time when they realize they’re not all that tough, the people will gather, strip away the handcuff and step forward with honor as they call their God’s bluff.

So let these words warn you, the ones of occult. Do the right thing, or face a revolt.

The Ward & the Bone: 6

The evening following their arrival to Cage Spamalot, The Lady of the Shake and her honorable Bites have settled into their guest quarters, much appreciating the fluffy, soft floor beds Grr Barker and his troupe has made available. As is customary, a Grand Feast is held in honor of the regal guests, with minstrels and jesters providing song and entertainment while the nobility discuss matters of state.

“He is Brave Grr Slobin, Brave Grr Slobin!”

Dancing atop an empty table, a small crew of minstrels begins singing the same song they sung as they approached the Cage earlier in the day.

Slightly under the influence, Grr Barker stands and hoists his silver goblet-bowl to request something else.

“Minstrels!” He barks loudly. “Play a song honoring the Kaynine’s who conquered the Kingdom!”

This request catches the attention of the entire court, as the events that led to the Kaynines’ triumph have been long debated amongst the land. Opting to please their host, the minstrels pick a tune that honors Grr Barker’s father, the current King of the Realm.

“Yes! We shall play the tale of Toother Mansbestfriendragon!”

Taking their positions, the minstrels begin singing the ballad that honors Grr Barker’s father and his campaign to liberate the Realm from the Phelyons oppressive rule.

“They came from nowhere, these Kaynines, and when they saw the harsh Phelyons, they drew their bones, and threw their stones, and now the Realm has grown and grown! With treats they came and fed the land, upon the Phelyons sad last stand, the Bites of Round Bowl, then unknown, gave peace by wielding EXCALIBONE!!”

As the melody booms throughout the Hall, Grr Barker leans back, proudly watching the court revel in the victorious song. Noticing a subtle poke in his side, he turns to see what has approached him as the rest focus on the continuing ballad.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the rat-servant who has poked him.

“Please, my liege, The Lady of the Shake beckons you.” The servant says, bowing her head in respect.

Intrigued, Grr Barker leans over to a still-enamored Grr Pantsalot.

“Grr Pants, keep an eye out on the festivities. I must answer this most cryptic of dispatches. I leave you in charge of the festivities.”

“Of course, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot barks. “I shall oversee the feast with honor.”

Satsified that he’s placed the Feast in a good boy’s hands, Grr Barker exits the chambers as he follows the rat-servant. Making their way through a winding tunnel of underground catabones, they arrive at a secret chamber previously unknown. Waiting patiently is the Lady of the Shake, whom Grr Barker watched walking through his Cage doors just hours before.

“Greetings, Grr Barker.” The Lady says, her soothing voice echoing through the underground halls. “I have learned much about you over the past several months.”

Not knowing what kind of encounter this will be, Grr Barker responds with a neutral tone.

“Is that so, Lady? Pray tell, how have you come upon such knowledge? Our Kingdoms are united, yet separated. How has my liking been passed along to your lands?”

Casually strutting forward, the magnificently beautiful Lady of the Shake walks down from the elevated stone she is standing on.

“Such knowledge has not been obtained conventionally, my dear Prince. It has come to me in a vision, one which overwhelmed me when I shook off the bathwater the other day after I bathed.”

”Tell me of this vision, m’Lady.” Grr Barker says, kneeling.

“I exited the tub, Prince, whereupon a towel was placed upon me. As I dashed into the nearest blanket and comforter to maniacally shed the moisture that plagued my fur, I saw you. I saw you holding the fabled Excalibone, standing tall amidst a ferocious battle. You were fighting the last of the Phelyons who had so desperately launched an assault on your Kingdom!”

Hearing of the Lady’s vision, Grr Barker gasps.

GASP!

“This…this cannot be so!” He barks, taking a step back. “My father ousted the last of the Phelyons! It is known!”

“No, Grr Barker.” The Lady says. “Evil still remains in the Realm, and it is your destiny to destroy it. You must dispatch yourselves and find the fabled Excalibone! There is no other way.”

Knowing The Lady of the Shake never speaks untruth, Grr Barker pauses a moment, and takes a deep breath.

“Yes. I shall find it, m’Lady!” Turning to the rat-servant who led him, he instructs her to scribe a dispatch. I call upon all the Good Boys and Bites of the Round Bowl! Gather! We have a quest!!”

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 4

Days after the Games, the valiant Prince Grr Barker, first in line for the Bone, parades around the halls of Cage Spamalot, the stone castle which the Bites of the Round Bowl call home.

“I suppose you all witnessed my triumphant victory the other day?” The prince howls, his chest puffed out in pride.

“Aye, you were brilliant in the Joust!” His close friend, Grr Pantsalot, barks as he tries to catch his breath.

“Why are you always panting, friend?” Grr Barker asks his companion, placing a paw on his back.

“I cannot say, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot pants. “I simply feel as if I’m constantly out of breath.”

“I see,” Grr Barker says, turning to face the other Bites of the Round Bowl. “Come, Good Boys!” He shouts. “We shall dine on the finest of soft foods this evening to celebrate my victory! I have arranged the most well-groomed bitches for you all to consort with in my honor! Behold!” He barks, waving his paw toward the centrally located room in the Tower. Laying within are several beautifully groomed, free-of-fleas female Kaynines, waiting for the Bites of the Round Bowl to join them.

“Awoooooo!!!!!!” Grr GoodGallihad howls, unable to contain his excitement. “Come on, boys! Grr Barker has bestowed upon us the finest bitches in the Realm!”

As the group of brave Bites debaucherously make their way into the Chamber of Doggy-Style, one Bite remains behind, lacking the same level of excitement his peers have displayed. Witnessing the events from the Halls, Grr Barker’s own mentor and personal sorcerer, Squirrelin, sees this particular Bite pausing. Carefully approaching him, he inquires what is on the young Bite’s mind.

“Grr Poopsalot, what troubles you?” The magical rodent asks.

With a grave stare, Grr Poopsalot locks eyes with Squirrelin for a moment, only to let his gaze drift to the floor.

“I have been plagued with nightmares as of late, Squirrelin, and I fear for Grr Barker. For weeks, every night as I rotate several hundred times before finding the perfect spot for me to lay myself to rest, I have had terrifying images occupy my thoughts.”

Recognizing the significance of such events, the magic-wielding advisor tries to learn more.

“You must share these visions with me, Grr Poopsalot. It is the only way for me to use my powers; we must see if there is imbalance brewing in the Realm.” Squirrelin asserts, placing his claws on Poopsalot’s forehead.

As the two close their eyes and hang their heads, deep in concentration, the somewhat cavalier Grr Humpsalot shouts at them to join the others.

“Poops!” He barks. “Come, sit and be a good boy! We are celebrating our Lord’s victory, do not be disrespectful!”

Sighing and briefly locking eyes, Grr Poopsalot apologizes to the sorcerer for his duties.

“I am sorry, Squirrelin, but I must join my pack. We shall revisit this conversation another time.”

Obediently jogging toward the Chamber of Doggy Style, Poops reconvenes with his peers and partakes in all the pleasures Cage Spamalot has to offer. Squirrelin, recognizing the possibilities before him, retreats to his kennel to study what this young Bite’s dreams may truly mean.

Coping Mechanisms

How often do I lift my eyes, shake my head, sigh and realize that its all a pit of lows and occasional highs, an endless board that’s gamed by the wise. The ones who see it, so full of their lies, often sit back and laugh at the pitiful cries. The cries of the pure who don’t don the disguise, fooled by a dusk masked as delusional sunrise. The mask which covers a world we so strongly despise. We believe that the ship won’t inevitably capsize, and pretend not to grasp what our behavior implies; that despite our attempts to understand and surmise, we’re just animals that honestly, Earth should ostracize. No better than the beasts we pretentiously analyze, convincing ourselves that we’re so civilized despite the unparalleled evil we all authorize through the so-called society we’ve created which serves to patronize.

Yes, I suppose it is better to follow the rule, for if we woke up we’d all feel like a fool. Its easy to walk on the straight path to school, to do what they say like the oxen and mule, to keep the wheel turning as the Engine of Civilization uses us as its fuel. We go with the flow to avoid ridicule, distracted from truth by an empty, false jewel.

I question the things I’m told to believe. I refuse to be ignorant, fake, or naïve. I’m guided by reality, not by things we conceive; not money, not fame, not things that deceive. The Tunic of Truth is the clothing I weave; respect forms its fabric and love hems its sleeve. I have no concern for false things we perceive, instead I look forward at the goals I’ll achieve.

Silently sitting, stillness in scope, I gaze at this road with a semblance of hope. So many around see the slippery slope, and join the campaign, hold these reigns made of rope. This rope isn’t normal, it holds divine horoscope; it represents action to those who sit back and cope.

Alone

So many things in life I see, they’re happening all around me. The love, the kids, the joy I see; they sooth my heart and set me free. The warmth I feel when I emcee is cherished oh so fervently, and even when they disagree I only smile, lovingly. Under this Umbrella Tree sits my past and my own memory, and as I watch the fun and glee I can’t help but to think of me. The child that I used to be, when in all the world, importantly, the only thing that mattered was how to climb that big, tall tree.

So quickly do we rush to grow. I need not say it, for you all know. This life that He thought to bestow flies by so fast like that photo taken by the best of show that all the others want to know. They need to know because they lie, as they get mighty and so high, and as the time comes when they die, they suddenly now say goodbye.

Remember me for all my deeds, the feigned actions and false decrees, for all that flows in this here breeze is reputation; legacies. The things I did when I was young, they matter not; they’re all unstrung. That song I sang, I never sung; I hung it on this lying rung. No lies escape misleading tongue, just look upon us, who among? Who among us can be tried? Who knows, who’s now identified? If logic, here, shall be applied then think and please come to decide that all who feign, and all who lied will one day cleanse and purify.

And now I sit here, though unknown, looking down at pad and phone. I think of all the time that’s flown, the love I’ve lost and past I own. I am no King that holds a throne, I am no skeleton or bone, I’m only who I’ve always known, the same thread that my life has sewn, what once was hidden, now is shown. The man I am was forged in stone, my spirit; glass that She had blown, awaiting this new brighter tone, I cherish that I’m all…alone.

The Forge

Silence sits so still inside, supplying souls so simplified, the subjects seem to mystify the saints that I’ve since satisfied.  Now that I have shed my pride I ask if doors now open wide, and though the answer is implied I fear its fake; that they all lied. There’s no direction, there’s no guide that steers this ship, and though I’ve tried to weather storms that won’t subside I’ve got no compass to abide. My sails are tight, yes, they’ve been tied and readied for the Great Divide and as I start this fabled ride there is no other at my side.

I’m at my post, all alone, and though I know that now I’ve grown the doubt still tries to fight, dethrone; yet I persevere and hold my own. The chains that held me I’ve outgrown, that which haunts me, the past I own, I’ve shed – forgotten, now unknown as I reach this stepping stone.

This foot forward is my first, my introduction to this thirst. This step I take, it might be cursed, and if it is then do your worst. I fear no devil, nor decree; no God or unknown deity, the tides are calm on this here sea, Poseidon shares my fraught decree.

I live my life on my own term. I don’t need someone to affirm the fact that I will always do that which causes thoughts anew for when we start to ask them “Why?’ The world will change; ideas can’t die.

Ideas can’t die, they’re just a thought, it sadly seems we’ve all forgot, we’re so caught up in right or wrong that every tune’s the same old song. Pass the blame on someone else, when our conscience says there’s no one else, no one other than our self, rugs are swept and acts are shelved.

Why is it that our world’s so fake? The ones who say they are awake just seem to point out each mistake yet nothing’s done to mend the break. Corrupted chaos is still here, and when we claim its disappeared another talking head we hear; controlled by the same puppeteer. Its this that’s caused this buccaneer to use the weapon of Shakespeare and fight a war that endears the values of the common ear.

What weapon is this, you may ask? Words I fill in this here flask. I carry them with every mask, uncorking them when I am tasked with questions that I can’t explain, when people try to pick my brain, they realize that they’ve tried in vain, for even I can’t hold the reign, even I can’t seem to gain an adequate way to paint my pain. But sure, I’ll try facades and feign, acting like I can abstain from all the things on this world’s train, as I launch this sole campaign.

No other sees these sights I see, no other sits so silently, no other has the patience, see, for this old world is just debris. Its fodder for the filth that’s free and feigns the feelings I foresee, so for the faithful  pray and plea, here’s your rusty lock and key.

Your teachings, here, I disagree. I forge this future for those like me.

My Biography

Alone in darkness, thoughts embark, and though this page displays my mark, nameless I shall now remain as embers’ heat begin to wane.

Uncertainty is close behind, forever shrouding this dark mind. I fear I may have intertwined the light that shines so bright behind the madness in this room upstairs with other shapes; those unfit squares. These pieces, see, they don’t belong, yet when I try to right the wrong I’m greeted by the same old song who’s tune just drags me right along, its lyrics say to “just stay strong”.

This is my life, these things you read, I’ve told the world that I concede. I give my every waking breath to live without the fear of death and make each day the best I can, to help and heal my fellow man, to be the one who gives their life to try and pull the piercing knife that penetrates hearts of men, that dagger of our constant sin.

The judgement that so rules this land, I cast away, its purpose banned. All it serves, its only stand, is harm or hurt, please understand.

Every second, every day I chase a dream that’s far away but every single moment spent I’ve sacrificed for my ascent. Its all been planned, accounted for, and let me guess; by thirty-four I’ll look back as those toasts are poured for changing locks to open doors. These poems I write, they aren’t for me, they aren’t to show the world I’m free; they’re nothing more than thoughts and things I’d write in my own diary. There is one thing that’s different, see, between the world and folks like me; that every single thing we think is shared for all the world for free. Our thoughts and all our passions flow, just like the light through this window, and when the doubt begins to grow we cut them down, like throwing salt on frosted snow.

So many say they write in vain, but please allow me to explain that none who know the strife and strain will know until they feel grit or grain. I’m cheating on my healing; I want to stop the hurt that’s seeps through every vein and yet I can’t stop sleeping with my pain. Pain of memories lost, that now I know I’ll never gain, acts that now I must abstain, and things from which I force refrain.

Now’s the time to stock the ship as unknown warriors crack their whip. The time is now for fellowship, so load the gun and soothe the grip, and forge unlikely partnerships for once its out you can’t acquit. This room has now grown pale, moonlit, and all the thoughts that I transmit are meant to peel the fake from real, to call out what is counterfeit.

And as I end this plead and plea, I’ll pilfer from philosophy the bits and pieces I agree and cast away the false debris. The lesson that we all should see is that we’re of the same old tree whose branches bare uniqueness, yes, but become the same as we undress. While we’re different, nonetheless, there are qualities we all possess: the need to love, the need to feel, the need to shape our own ideal, these are things that we all need, a hunger which we need to feed. We’re all connected, its true you see, regardless of geography, no mind for color, biology, we all are here and share this tree. If one thing I can leave for me, the purpose for my reality, it’s to show the world community.

This, nothing more, is what I want in my biography.

Written in Stars

Close my eyes, give my thoughts the reigns

As the darkness outside, it brings the rains

The bittersweet memory, it engrains

Every value, love, regret; it pains

 

Open my eyes, and I start to write

Blow the candle out and dim the light

Pick a concept and my pen takes flight

Thoughts hold the reigns and they’re pulling them tight

 

I’ve written two books now I’m on book three

But tonight I’ll discontinue Continuity

Cause my thoughts have steered toward this poetry

I’m just a passenger writing on this carriage, see

 

I don’t know when I sit down each late evening

What will pour out or what my thoughts will bring

The compass just spins as it weaves this ring

That I use to propose to this writing thing

 

Every second of my life there’s one thing on my mind

What’s the word that’s coming next on my journal’s line?

Searching for the others who spend all their time

Like me, all their thoughts consumed by prose and by rhyme

 

Yeah so many out there say they work so hard

But there’s just a few who know they really hold that card

They put on their mask and they put up their guard

But when the time comes they just seek fame and reward

 

They say they’re virtuous, yeah well I say, please

They need to study up on Kant or Socrates

An unexamined life isn’t worth living, these

People preach morality but live to appeal and appease

 

But that’s how we’ve created this world of ours

We can’t stand the pain yet we keep creating these scars

And then just forget it at the concerts and bars

Yeah that how we live, as if its written in stars

We Done Lost Our Minds

Okay ya’ll.

I haven’t written an actual blog post for a looooong time. I’ve pretty much used my site for poetry, short stories, etc. But today…oh boy. Not today.

Many of you are probably familiar with the dating app, Bumble. If you aren’t, here’s a quick crash course: Tinder, but yellow. Just kidding; basically Bumble is another one of the “swipe right to match, left to pass” apps that lets folks create profiles and easily scroll through up to six photos without having to read one sentence about the actual individual they’re judging. I do it, you probably do it, like 70% of everyone does it. We enjoy meeting people. Sue us.

Anyway, users of these apps are also familiar with the occasional advertisement that flitters by, briefly interrupting their swipetime. Today, something happened that I NEVER would have expected to see in the middle of my Bumblebee-tuna.

I was bombarded by political Leftism.

Yes. A liberal slap in the face right smack in the middle of a dating app.

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That’s right. Bumble is banning guns. #SJW

 

I suppose you’re wondering how on Earth these two things, dating and gun control, could possibly be related. Well, luckily they tell us. Apparently, if you’re seen shooting a gun in your photos, you’re a dangerous swipelicant. That is to say, the (most-likely red-blooded eagle-scouted) applicant you see in front of you poses danger should you take the risk and swipe right.

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Yes, report them so we know who to ship off to Antarctica when tempered reason finally sweeps the nation once more.

 

And before the super justice warriors berate me for being insensitive, let me nip it in the bud and say this: if you’re offended by my light hearted poke in the ribs here…please get a life. I say that genuinely. Because I’m laughing at this, and so should you.

Anyway, I don’t think I need to say much else to illustrate how absurd this is. So instead, I’ll just say go to Amazon and buy my book, Continuity. Type in Matt Shao in the search bar, because I’m not important enough yet to pop up when you just search the title. Its a fun read, and book 2 comes out soon. We blast into space and things.

Cause, you know, with stuff like this going on…I think its about that time.

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Concept

Today a message came to me

From one who reads my poetry

The sender asked just how I write

And how my ideas come to light

He wanted help for what Block had caused

Asked “How come your content’s never paused?”

Tonight, my friend, I’ll heed your call

And tell you how I break that wall

But know we’re all unique, its true

What works for me may not for you

So if for topics, I feel strife

My first step is to think of life

I ask myself for what I care

What fills my mind when no one’s there?

And almost always, this one step

It works without more need for prep

But for the times when more, I need

I’ll read what past things I have keyed

Sometimes I’ll use them as a base

Elaborate, a past embrace

The most important thing, to me

Is just to let your mind go free

Take all the things we’re taught to think

Forget them all, your mind unlink

Then rip the ceiling from your thought box

Let them escape, take outside walks

When your thoughts, you liberate

The block becomes an open gate

And so, to all who struggle, too

The simplest answer I have for you

Is during times your brain has slept

Pick just one word: that’s your concept

So often, friends, we complicate

When simple’s the approach to take

Working this way helps, I know

Just pick one thought, and make it grow

And as I look back at my own

Some things I’ll share, examples shown

Purpose, Fear, my Mother, Blurred

My concepts start with just one word

And when you start to write this way

The Block, it seems to fade away

The ideas flow, the concepts rife

So take these words, and change a life

This Wishing Well

Standing here, I flip this coin

My oft stray dreams now fine’ly join

The thieves of thought think hard, you see

And mine the deepest cavity

Requiring midnight’s darkness; black

The sound of silence, naught a crack

The ones who came before me know

Shakespeare, Whitman, Frost, and Poe

Together who all see this world

A different way, with views so twirled

We watch as whispers turn to shout

It is these things we write about

The lonely feeling, all my peers

Have persevered through all these years

Standing outside, looking in

At this place of hate and sin

Tragedy, this world of ours

So many chasing distant stars

If they’d only shift their peer

At all the good that is right here

Perhaps then all these folks would see

The difference between vanity

And doing all these things for free

Without the need for “look at me”

Alas, its human nature, no?

I guess that’s how its s’posed to go

But if I had a world my way

There wouldn’t be a price to pay

To live a whole life, full of love

Like the angels, and the dove

No law, no rules, this world anew

Just treat others as they would you

No time for war, no time for fame

No time to play this empty game

Where people loved; supported all

And tore down each and every wall

I must admit, this world I see

Could happen if we’d make it be

That’s my dream, to you I tell

With this coin; this wishing well.

The Tour

Psst, hey you! Come here, my friend

To you, my hand, I shall extend

Don’t be shy, come quietly

This is for you, just follow me

 

A tour this is, with me, your guide

So let us gently step inside

Now take a seat, get strapped right in

Prepare the mind to twirl and spin

 

First stop, its here, a bright red light

We look around, no soul in sight

And so we drive, but wait! Just stop

A ticket written from this cop?

 

“You ran a red light.” So, my friend?

There was no one around the bend

What purpose do you serve, you see?

Protect and serve, for my safety?

 

Then why, dear sir, must you oppress?

I looked each way, both right and left

‘Twas obvious, no danger here

And so I went, but still you’re here?

 

Truth is, my friend, that light you see

Is simply there for trafficking

A ticket now is petty, no?

Written only ‘cause “I told you so”

 

But hey,  you there, let’s move along

Let’s not get caught up in this “wrong”

The point of using it, you see

Was to make you sit and think

 

So come on now, next stop ‘n still

Is at my cousin’s funer-ill

But don’t feel bad, no please don’t cry

He had it coming, stupid guy

 

Just look around, observe and see

All these tears and cries we grieve

Tell me, is your faith in God?

‘Cause if it is, he’s just a bod

 

That’s right, he’s nothing now, down here

So wipe and dry that tumbling tear

If believe, you truly do

You’d be happy for the news!

 

He’s up there in your heaven, right?

And as you lay down, every night

You tell yourself “we’ll meet again”

But will you really, my old friend?

 

Okay let’s pause, and take a break

I know it’s hard to be awake

This tour is tough, it’s hard for me

To drive folks through reality

 

The truth is harsh, it doesn’t care

What color, skin, or crown you wear

These words offend you? Sacrilege?

Buy “ignorance is bliss” package

 

This tour, I say. it must go on

And money man, it pays the bondS

So let’s move on to our stop three

And talk about our friend, money

 

Here we have, right in our hands

The instrument, that rules our lands

Every single thing you do

Is to make more, more accrue

 

More and more until its thought

We can afford the life we want

Well what if way back, way back when

‘Fore money was invented, friend

 

They’d thought of something else, instead

Like I build houses, you bake bread

Existence without currency

I know its weird, this tour with me

 

Its in a world, where things are not

The status quo, these thing’s we’re thought

Hey, you know, I’m just your guide

That’s how it is, just let it slide

 

Pretend its normal, this new world

Cause every curl we have uncurled

Is hard to think of, yeah that’s right

Because you’ve learned one way, alright?

 

Conditioning, please don’t feel bad

But when you wake up, don’t be mad

These things we’ve taught you to believe

Are all an act, a just reprieve

 

Created rules, and laws you see

To contain the thought that’s free

But now my friends, you have a guide

I need support, this scheduled ride

 

We must end it, I decree

And bring back our humanity

There is a game, you know it’s true

And trust me, world, I need you

Make it Count

Every single second

Each and every single day

Is a blessing given to us

For us to use and play

 

Life is but a moment

A brief wrinkle in time

A canvas to be colored

In or outside of the line

 

You see, its not a rigid path

Through which all are meant to tread

There is no right or wrong, here

No matter what the others said

 

Do the things you want to

Don’t hold back anything

Take the chance you’re given

And step into the ring

 

Make the most of this life

Do it while you can

So fast it will speed by you

The clock, its spinning hand

 

Dance like no one’s watching

Sing without concern

Do the things you’ve dreamed of

Forget how much you earn

Love with every fiber

Care without regret

Smile ever wider

And don’t ever forget

 

That no one knows what happens

When at last we lay to rest

So do everything you can, here

And make your life the best