• Others 25.07.2007 No Comments

    Fleeting-fancy sits pretentuously bold within your eyes,
    Portraying an image-of-truth…in a declaration of lies.
    Even though the world is a beautiful creation to behold,
    Things great-and-small are compelled to growing old.

    sample only
    Back to Others

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    Fleeting-fancy sits pretentuously bold within your eyes,
    Portraying an image-of-truth…in a declaration of lies.
    Even though the world is a beautiful creation to behold,
    Things great-and-small are compelled to growing old.

    Vegetation beautifies, and provides food for the appetite;
    Fancy the passing of history, so eaten up with time.
    The human mind desires contentment–with a body to be;
    Then, this world so real, becomes unavailable to see.

    You rest upon a mattress, to absorb your daily sleep,
    Beating down the springs that wear away, at least.
    Temporarily, you wear old attire that cover the body;
    Apparel decay converts your coolness–into shoddy.

    Memories are transit–place-to-place, saving memories;
    Return and accumulate again…by adding to sensory.
    That vehicle mobilizes your life–moving here-and-there,
    Deteriorating existence, as you pause upon a chair.

    A brief moment of foolish-fancy assumes to be invincible,
    Revolving with the world–a solid rock-of-sensible.
    Substance-of-matter cannot be destroyed permanently;
    Rather, earth is forever changing form…eternally.

    The true value-of-life depends on a supernatural sight;
    It is a journey beyond the realm of day-and-night.
    Possessions will slip away, as the mortal food you eat,
    Through the powerful results of a sovereign-spirit.

    Since all things pass away, look deeper to lasting-worth;
    Sensibility-of-thought leads-on…before your birth.
    Study the invisible world, that holds earth in its power;
    Receive your supreme grant–to live another hour.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,

  • Others 25.07.2007 No Comments

    A mild deliberation puts a conflict on the table;
    For the most part, discussions are rather stable.
    Duly complications, in a heterosexual dominion,
    Find gentle self-doubts–with dubious opinion.

    sample only
    Back to Others

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    A mild deliberation puts a conflict on the table;
    For the most part, discussions are rather stable.
    Duly complications, in a heterosexual dominion,
    Find gentle self-doubts–with dubious opinion.

    Suddenly!…a disturbance dominates the scene;
    A vocal eruption astounds ethics–with demean.
    Sweet and congenial, though intentions may be;
    The blunt truth opens a mouth, that cannot see.

    The flabbergastic eruption, by a cute lil’ dimple,
    Overwhelms the personality quirk–like a pimple.
    An indescribeable prank, with a sizeable mouth;
    Undoubtedly, impresses hard critics–some how!

    An impelling urge to squeeze–this popper head,
    Stumbles over self-defensive words–to be said!
    Words form sentences…into paragraphs galore;
    But, a hodge-podge ascertion does much more.

    The mouth commences to expound–a surprize,
    So that written terms…refuse to draft such lies.
    A diplomatic speculation…defines Mister hodge,
    While a stressful counterpart attends Ms podge.

    To bite the tongue…is a heterogeneous distress,
    ‘Cause an external pressure spills a bloody mess.
    Raising the shield…to deflect this verbal attack,
    Only bounces gossip to throw the surprize back.

    More or less, the conflicts are to be unsolveable;
    For, who believes gender truth–is unbelievable?
    An obvious angle–to make this plain and simple:
    Pop this aggravation…like a personalized pimple.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,

  • Neighbor, relate to me…of golden years;
    Especially the ones with thrilling cheers.
    Take a happy moment, or perhaps, two.
    Reveal pleasant things expected of you.

    sample only
    Back to Final Score

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    Neighbor, relate to me…of golden years;
    Especially the ones with thrilling cheers.
    Take a happy moment, or perhaps, two.
    Reveal pleasant things expected of you.

    Mix some feelings with a conjecture ascent,
    Whether years will arrive–straight or bent.
    Chronical concern predisposes me, you see;
    Perhaps, those golden years are not for me.

    There is a social disturbance–all around.
    Some rumors practically cover the town.
    Folks talk about a raucous of some kind;
    Claim! that years pass quickly with time.

    How does time appear when it arrives;
    Do years become golden–dead or alive?
    Suppose years of gold are hard to find;
    Alas, time surmounts…without a sign.

    The ebb-of-time is hardly prepared for me;
    Physical persuasion…isn’t very convincing.
    Even so, professionals are pleased to help;
    They can set the golden years–in a snap.

    If golden thoughts are previous to submit,
    Check a silver jerk, where a joint don’t fit.
    Level hips just may transport a lame brain;
    Snap! pop! Silver legs, with a golden pain.

    Neighbor, you express the density of gold;
    Oddly, time is a yearly persuasion–unsold.
    File with a lawyer; get free from this crap;
    Golden folks are resolved to take this rap.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , , ,

  • Mister Chesser has graced over 100 years;
    Loved so long…with his century of cares.
    This old world is like a comfortable cough;
    He wouldn’t kick if both legs were cut off.

    sample only
    Back to Final Score

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    Mister Chesser has graced over 100 years;
    Loved so long…with his century of cares.
    This old world is like a comfortable cough;
    He wouldn’t kick if both legs were cut off.

    In 2009, he is 103–yet, alive and kickin’.
    Preparing meals with the food he’s pickin’.
    Living alone, he keeps busy mowing lawns;
    Abiding his time, while life goes on and on.

    His beloved companion has passed away;
    Leaving him behind–alone!…here to stay.
    At age 96, she was hardly a spring chick’n;
    Attending her attention, with home keepin’.

    Over 100, enduring!…is along time to live;
    So he thinks, sharing the kindness he gives.
    Memories are now stored–for time to keep.
    Nothing is lost!…only the Lord’s lost sheep.

    Old friends gave up!…on getting any older.
    He does what he can–pittles a little bolder.
    After 75 years, his marriage is terribly lost;
    Since the wife is gone, it’s time to kick-off.

    Life has been real; a blast-of-time to see;
    The world is completely what it should be.
    Creation is fulfilled, with nothing to scoff;
    He wouldn’t kick…if both legs were cut-off.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,

  • Material things inflate the ego mind,
    while eyes intensify with greed.
    A bully will control things–in time;
    finally, vanity determines need.

    sample only
    Back to World Selection

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    Material things inflate the ego mind,
    while eyes intensify with greed.
    A bully-want, controls things…in time;
    finally, vanity determines a need.

    Frequent inventions…set a generation
    with unfamiliar hearts…in a net.
    No norm inclination…will dare be still;
    to feel…is a compulsive threat.

    Conversation will eventually surface,
    for a common important value.
    Still, don’t ignore the events of going;
    the commercial mart invites you.

    Time unravels life–we share together;
    silence prefers the golden walk.
    Stop!…and look at me…look for you;
    please converse with love talk.

    Some things we know–of this and that;
    frustration deal a wistful thought.
    Value disallows an interesting pattern,
    like the inflated ego–we bought.

    Tho, numbness is glued to a TV screen,
    the volume will likely drown you.
    Media rudeness portrays the obscene;
    rather that!…than tolerate you.

    Enduring may be crazy–sometimes!,
    craving the distractions we feel.
    When tender vibs unconsciously arise,
    money persuades love to be real.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,

  • Mister Chesser has graced over 100 years;
    Loved so long…with his century of cares.
    This old world is like a comfortable cough;
    He worldn’t kick if both legs were cut off.

    sample only
    Back to Entry Sample

    Buy/Read Full Poem Below:

    [pay]
    Mister Chesser has graced over 100 years;
    Loved so long…with his century of cares.
    This old world is like a comfortable cough;
    He wouldn’t kick if both legs were cut off.

    In 2008, he is 102–yet, alive and kickin’.
    Preparing meals with the food he’s pickin’.
    Living alone, he keeps busy mowing lawns;
    Abiding his time, while life goes on and on.

    His beloved companion has passed away;
    Leaving him behind–alone!…here to stay.
    At age 96, she was hardly a spring chick’n;
    Attending her attention, with home keepin’.

    Over 100, enduring!…is along time to live;
    So he thinks, sharing the kindness he gives.
    Memories are now stored–for time to keep.
    Nothing is lost!…only the Lord’s lost sheep.

    Old friends gave up!…on getting any older.
    He does what he can–pittles a little bolder.
    After 75 years, his marriage is terribly lost;
    Since the wife is gone, it’s time to kick-off.

    Life has been real; a blast-of-time to see;
    The world is completely what it should be.
    Creation is fulfilled, with nothing to scoff;
    He wouldn’t kick…if both legs were cut-off.
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,