• Read my lips, alas, turn-up your hearing aid!
    Attention folks!…beware of a wild life today.
    Young and old are generally things in motion;
    Transportation could face a great commotion.

    Commotion is certainly a thing of joy–we do!
    Sunrise begins…a congenial greeting with you;
    Practice makes perfect sense…at some odd time.
    Afterwards, you could witness a corrosive mind.

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    Read my lips, alas, turn-up your hearing aid!
    Attention folks!…beware of a wild life today.
    Young and old are generally things in motion;
    Transportation could face a great commotion.

    Commotion is certainly a thing of joy–we do!
    Sunrise begins…a congenial greeting with you;
    Practice makes perfect sense…at some odd time.
    Afterwards, you could witness a corrosive mind.

    Vexations come upon the aged and the young.
    Don’t sweat the small stuff…we’re having fun.
    We’re endowed with love, inspite of fussy stuff;
    The bumpy roads are mild, when life gets rough.

    Jeanne maintains pleasant…the whole day long;
    She smiles to brush away a fitful vexing throng.
    Dispatching transport as a lubriant roller game.
    Buses are rockin’ and rollin’ with a nagging pain.

    Ideas come into flow…within our office space;
    Rosie redspruce, set Jeanne to a worthy chase.
    Attempting some skill–touching at raw nature;
    Pruning the branches with a stretching stature.

    A jovial disposition is the life of Orange County;
    Open your laughing heart to a delightful bounty.
    When struggling with age has lost its vital glory,
    A Trainor tells a Harry joke and a chuckle story.

    Strange bed partners bunk with a brown recluse;
    A red neck hicky, and a spider…won’t turn loose.
    You may prefer a poisonous type–that’s just swell;
    A boil arises–lemon side, and takes awhile to heal.

    Passengers rush to reach appointments on time;
    Just rockin’ & rollin’, with Charlotte’s web incline.
    Let a shameful honor haunt the guys who died,
    Leaving dazzled wives with a zipping zesty ride.

    Words!…like a delicate twist in a caustic spin;
    Spinning Trisha so closely on the edge of men.
    Distinguished notes–sweet jesters in a crump;
    Tender!…resembles Trisha’s edge…in a snap.

    Scoot’n’ scooter Charlie…dazed on main street;
    Cruising downtown…was the wrong place to be.
    A roadhog with a wheel…took his scooter down;
    Stretching ole Charlie–layed out on the ground.

    Rattle brains find amusement in rattling cages.
    Linda’s bus is equipped with nonsense gages.
    She can rattle a rattler ’til the rattlin’s done;
    No nonsense!…Linda, calmly equalizes the fun.

    A calm demeanor…resolves through the room,
    While big-hearted Glen diverts ominous doom.
    Conscious health is a matter of daily concern;
    Slender to his wife, while his heart grows stern.

    When all is lost, and Bobbie is in search of Lee,
    She hangs on…to a balancing act, desparately.
    His mind is wandering around for a radio check;
    One false idle twitch, and she’ll wring his neck.

    An amiable boss administers–from another room;
    Transportation has overcome the impossible gloom.
    Paula keeps the wheels a rollin’ service–countywide;
    Vehicles continue to function inspite of a dumpyside.

    Crank the engines, and serve the poor a rolling meal;
    Service is natural for these Orange County wheels.
    A side-venture for transportation…is an aging deal;
    Over the Vidor tracks…appears “Meals on Wheels.”

    Whatever we said!–half employed with foolish ways,
    Our motely crew…floats about–some dazzling days.
    Serving Orange County neighbors…is a funny scare;
    Spending a few nice days with gentle folks who care.

    This county job says it all, and luckily, halfway done;
    Serving the old senior community…is a treasure fund.
    Hopefully, an unbalanced youth will make a discovery:
    Wise old folks pray earnestly–for a painful recovery.
    [/pay]

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  • Most discreetly, my friend delight,
    We captured a sweet precious night.

    One solid love of true romance;
    All we did, my friend, was dance.

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    Most discreetly, my friend delight,
    We captured a sweet precious night.

    One solid love of true romance;
    All we did, my friend, was dance.

    Step, step, we sway; true love is gold.
    Most everything real…I was told.

    A quite delight…pure crystal clear,
    The dance of love tingles my ear.

    Tangible worlds, nor mortals made…
    Our true love hath no fare trade.

    Dance not toward the golden bed.
    But, Ooo…sweet dance beyond my head.

    If golden bed be pure delight,
    Why stop, true love, after one night?
    [/pay]

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  • 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.

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    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]

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  • Friends appear!…on the familial scene,
         to strengthen and clear the mind.
    Endurance intends no hint to be mean,
         to weaken love with a heart in pine.

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    Friends appear!…on the familial scene,
    to strengthen and clear the mind.
    Endurance intends no hint to be mean,
    to weaken love with a heart in pine.

    Misunderstanding requires many ways,
    to explain pain–a silly simple thing.
    One-way, clearly describes trouble days,
    to surface another way–to bring.

    No doubt!…you are always in my heart,
    to see me through bewildering piles.
    Emotional strength glows near to you,
    to solutions enduring testy trials.

    Beautiful flowers grow, and flowers go;
    to you!…they are truely friends.
    You!…dear, are beauty that never fades,
    to embrace the troubles we mend.

    Passing flowers are medical antedotes,
    to cure the flows…a heart entertains.
    Vigilant flowers arise…to assist the mind;
    to stymie progress–short of insane.

    Love invites friends who cordially appear,
    to administer relief…unto a struggle.
    Medicine never appears as timely cheer,
    to blindness that cannot see trouble.

    Illness is a flaw, without friendly recourse,
    to an antedote from flowers above.
    Understanding!…is a vision on course,
    to express with the patience of love.
    [/pay]

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  • Here is a valid reason to enter the race:
    Gaining a lot more…at a gradual pace.

    There is a courageous life full of clues:
    She gives no excuse…as an effort to you.

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    Here is a valid reason to enter the race:
    Gaining a lot more…at a gradual pace.

    There is a courageous life full of clues;
    She gives no excuse…as an effort to you.

    Polio struck havoc upon the legs of Ener;
    By deformation, she will never surrender.

    Heart’s mother…a loving degree of drive;
    Just to keep a child’s willing heart alive.

    Crutches enter the race…to open books;
    Viewing tender minds with noble looks.

    Pilgrims approach with an eager mode.
    They discover the life of Mister Toad.

    The race is the place youth ought to be;
    Experiencing P&Qs on a learning tree.

    Education is a glad merit of merry tricks,
    Falling into the mind…like pickup sticks.

    Ignorance flees one concept at a time;
    Enhancing the branch of a naked vine.

    Dignity and poise build youth each day;
    Courageous education–the Ener way.
    [/pay]

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  • Taking note!…of all the freeway cars,
         Which one carries a soul?
         Regarding,…who you are,
    Very few passengers appear to know,
         You live down an exit road.

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    Taking note!…of all the freeway cars,
    Which one carries a soul?
    Regarding…who you are;
    Very few passengers appear to know,
    You live down an exit road.

    First!…is first, and second to none;
    Each life endears a heartbeat;
    Every soul is being the ONE.
    There’s a certain exit…to a vital road;
    Precious?…ONE only knows.

    Obscure within that exit…is a story told.
    Love and hate turns the world;
    Life is borned–to growing old.
    Initial facts!…are concealed, you know;
    You’re just another–down a road.

    Billions of minds, who have gone before,
    Across pride, guilt, love, and pain;
    Bequeath ripples to billions more.
    Tho’, what of you?…just ONE you know;
    ONE living!…down another road.
    [/pay]

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  • As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
         “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
         There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

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    As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
    “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
    There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

    Experience soon taught me…of “worldly things.”
    Contrary to belief, but, the devil is right.
    “Work!”…is an odd pleasure–a series of “stings.”
    If you don’t believe–me!, ask my wife.

    What a perfect delight–an endeavor of “work.”
    Bringing fresh food to a sheltered home.
    Where the family lives, and plays fun together;
    While a strange “bread winner” eats alone.

    This poem intends…NO disgruntled complaint.
    But rather loosely,…happiness in “the red.”
    In a peculiar twist of fate, “work” is…what it ain’t.
    Digging a congenial “hole” for my bed.

    Now, tell me quickly: Is life OK in the “fast lane?”
    Out there!…where “work” is “getting a head?”
    Then, deny this fact: the harder I seem to “work”,
    The deeper goes…digging a “hole”…in “the red.”

    Every “paycheck”…is a step in the right direction.
    My beloved family unites with “Uncle Sam.”
    The task of “spinning wheels” is a spindle pleasure.
    But now!…somebody please, tell me who I am.

    One step forward…as ten goes the opposite way.
    Each “paycheck” obviously belong to another.
    If I work a bit harder, possibly, I could “get ahead.”
    Not!…in going forward,…but in the other.

    It’s not enough…to be “taxed” until I bleed to death;
    Legal robbers take a healthy chunk of bread.
    Of course; I understand! It’s legal to live and to die.
    Now consider: “spinning wheels” in “the red?”

    “Help!…Help!” Friend or foe, will somebody please!
    There’s a thief robbing me “until I am blind.”
    Oh, never mind. The system takes a measure of rights.
    Anyway!…what I’m working for–isn’t mine.

    So what!…if I have not. I’ve enjoyed the task of “work.”
    It’s a “labor of love”…to please the life of others.
    However, there is an insignificant thing to consider.
    In this “hole”…it won’t belong…before I smother.

    Oh well, who cares to notice?!…”Work” is not an issue.
    Life is only a business; nobody’s gentle concern.
    Here’s an obvious “fact of life”: consuming is filled.
    Business is not a love type…of gratitude to earn.

    Don’t get me wrong! That!…refuses to abide.
    “The red” condition, in a “hole”…is lots of fun.
    Even “spinning wheels” is not so chronically bad.
    But, “broke!”, I must admit…is a “hell-of-a-run.”
    [/pay]

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  • Somewhat bewildered, asked,
      J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur,
      “What, then, is the American;
      this new “man”…of ours?”

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    Somewhat bewildered, asked,
    J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur,
    “What, then, is the American;
    this new “man”…of ours?”

    Boldly, the “man” plucked-up
    traditions of embedded roots,
    to escape comfortable heritage,
    by rugged miles of muddy boots.

    Confronted with a brave and reckless quest,
    he challenged a new environment.
    By God–for religious freedom,
    –formed a more perfect “government.”

    America!…a wild mysterious country;
    untamed by culturally civil hands.
    Climate covered forest–hot and cold,
    infested with savage Indian bands.

    From cultures beyond the sunset,
    came travelers–with their kin.
    A potpourri of blood–with a liquid net,
    gravitate into a new blend of men.

    Nobles–an English race of gentlemen;
    plantation owners of colonial land.
    Suspicion swept their wealthy minds,
    as German order made legal stands.

    What anger possessed the Scotch-Irish;
    a blinking red-haired bloody lot.
    Sizzling blood mixed with Indian fire,
    savage temper had never been so hot!

    Shamefully, does history reminiscence
    –on a darker pigment of skin.
    The African race brought here to slave,
    without praise…to assist the “man.”

    The American race, St. de Crevecoeur,
    English, Scotch, Irish, Asian, and Swede,
    German, French, Spanish, African, and Indian
    Presents the new “MAN”, our American breed.
    [/pay]

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  • Age!…is a growing expectancy
         in the course of man;
    Cancer will often deliver him
         to a preposterous end.

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    Age!…is a growing expectancy
    in the course of man;
    Cancer will often deliver him
    to a preposterous end.

    Folks, so beloved in life,
    may experience the sad;
    Now, say here, what-the-heck;
    Dying can’t be all bad.

    Time!…is a world revolving,
    and much…a terrible bore;
    Except for television action,
    life serves…only a chore.

    Battles!…raging on the homefront;
    conflicts fought and lost.
    Soon, we’ll tally the books,
    and discover the final cost.

    Win or lose!…the contest of life,
    the adventure will sting;
    Death will never ever fail
    the proudest king.

    Whatever surprises come
    around the bend,
    Dying!…produces the match
    for a common friend
    [/pay]

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  • A principle of concern in the spring of life;
    Wonder!…appears from a man and a wife.
    A third birth increases joy, with great fun;
    Old!…is not so old–perpetuated by a son.

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    A principle of concern in the spring of life;
    Wonder!…appears from a man and a wife.
    A third birth increases joy, with great fun;
    Old!…is not so old–perpetuated by a son.

    The child is amazement on a foreign track;
    At least, this birth arrives–clicky d’clack!
    A son arises on time…for an eastern train.
    Dangling with dad…by the reason he came.

    Obaasan found time for a railing goodbye;
    Taking-up the expense of a Tokyo joy-ride.
    The child needs to pass through such a trip;
    Otherwise, he’ll not know the value of a tip.

    Clicking along, while dangling from dad;
    A train ride is fun!…well, it’s not half bad.
    Daniel’s blank expression shows little joy;
    That’s a clever dispose…for a smart boy.

    From a foreign train…to a pony express;
    Father and son…ride joyfully thru a mess.
    Delightfully enduring a pressing smother;
    Appeasing misery for a homesick mother.

    Of all…of life’s acts, how long can it last;
    Balancing with survival of a crazy past?
    Keep-on, Son!; ’til you reach the dawn;
    Do it!…until finally, you’re on your own.

    Life is a combat–fighting hand-to-hand;
    Experience is the edge!…for a clever man.
    Where you are now, dad has…once been.
    A solution to life…is a conquest of friends.
    [/pay]

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