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Life keeps happening; better to adjust expectations accordingly…

On the Journey

Are we there yet?
Know
There is awe ways amor
Stop axing
You are on
Knead to know bases
And will let you no
When ready to go home

This poem is an owed to those who love animals but oft don’t mind eating them, caging them in zoos for our enrichment, or using them in sporting — perhaps something to amor, then think about…

Feral Love

In the range of life
She finds it a zoo
Or a pet project
She loves animals
Though oft derivative of her own
Her love of domestics
Tasteful table service
The beast of burden
Sporting
A given
A lessen
In what might be
Feral love

Human rights are fore awe humans, transcending borders and all boarders within a nation…

D Humanize

Bombed
Out of their mine
Doggedly a dicked
To bred
Kneading to know
Of what damn nation
Won is a citizen of
Before reckoning that
Entreating you as a human
In such dispensable practice
Soully scorn enough points
To make that steep grade
Of D humanize
Us
And them

At present, we are all equal, deserving of the same human rights. Still, there is not equity in life, our rights are not present equally. This poet awe weighs pines for just us…

Per Verse Equity

She pined
I ache for a world
Wear
Elders are appreciated, even revered
And the poet fooly quipped
Wrest easy
Your are in good
Company men
Women and children
Reckoned in kind
Weather experienced elders
Passionate youth
Caretakers of those unherd, not scene
Amid life cries
And grave worker be’s
Life is fare
No
One
Dares be tolled
You are awe
To be treated
In differently
That dive
Into like manor
Equal measures
Of vague dis saddest faction
Halving@ThatConundrum.com
Under taking
That life long odyssey
Of straight up queer poetry
Spinning we’ll
Awe pine
Just
The same

This poem is about how complicated relationships are, with pasts, where we are at any given moment, and what we aspire to…

A Couple, of Sextuplets

In every relation ship
Their re-sides
At least six persons
First person
Who they were
Who they are
Who they want to be
Second person
Who they were
Who they are
Who they want to be
And on occasion
Third person
It can be
Quiet
Boisterous

I suspect that hubris is our ultimate enemy. This poem uses the metaphor of our relationship with our shadow as the shadow that the sun casts, which can disappear at high noon — in showdowns of conflict — only to appear and grow as the day continues…

Fallowing the Sun

My shadow approached me
As the day progressed
Fortuitously, as high noon turned up
I had no shadow
An epic win
That is
Un-till
Low and be holed
Once agin
My shadow grew longer

Every moment offers something anew…

Moment…um

Life has its own
Momentum
It keeps things
Running
Humming
And any difference
Accords
To rules and laws
Stubbornly persistent
As any realty
Life
As well
Has infinite moments
Every singular one
Offering
A myriad of subjects
Experience a knew
And the prospect
Of excavating un-herd of futures
Mine-ing
This ore that
Whatever it is you proffer
Resetting anew
Of course
Contributing in every present
Your free vote for a new ordering
As you tailor
Sew sew slender alterations
In whatever suits you
And a mist each act
From your unique lookout
You may relish
What it is
You be quest
Your finest
Moment, umm
The ever changing
Arc of your life
Carrying you
Into your future

I have found that moving forward in life often calls for ever more nimble mourning of losses day to day…

Salutation

In the wake
Of each anew daze
Present
At a loss
That most humble
Salutation
Good mourning, love

I tend to see life in two realms: the “billiard ball” world of determinism, this reliably follows that, the science-y stuff of life, and the realm of the spirit, which is about “invitations” to a higher place that cannot be forced but where the best stuff resides. This poem is one take on this…

Soully by Invitation

They proffered
To nail it
Down with life
Though not a ware
The deference between
A given
And givin’
Soully buy invitation