Poetry-Thing Thursday: Wandering

Wandering and wandering
and wandering we go
where we’re stopped
by whom and the how,
only the notions,
of father time can now tell.

Because in the end
what they call sin
is thinking with
alternative win–
corruption unseated,
mind boggles it, when,
they don’t see it coming
get steamrolled in spin

“If only, if only,”
the cry in the night,
those four sacred words,
turn to sand from might,
like the ancients of old
for what time doesn’t bare us,
was written, foretold,
no need to embarrass,
nor spoil it, see,
for those wee little four words,
contain infinity.

But never fear,
for madness is near,
and love-a-rub dubbing,
kindly riding in rear.
Decipher their words,
but know not their meanings,
for these processions, herds,
and wanton unleanings,
are really the yearnings,
of creatures quite feeling.

All quite like us,
and no wonder, you know,
when wandering and a-wandering
and-a wandering we go.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Fill

the void in,
The world,
your heart,
their minds,
then turn away.

the widening hole,
in your soul,
in the world’s heart,
in a lost art,
in a broken home,
then turn away.

the silence in,
or violence wins,
and finds within,
your healing words,
to add in verbs,
so you might turn away.

Whether to the top,
or the the half-way mark,
just fill the world,
with all good things–
love and compassion,
and other such things.

For freedom’s not free,
it is won through sacrifice,
and the loving passion,
of the courageous and brave,
for their loved ones to save.

So just fill up the world,
so we can go on,
us along with it,
radiate like the sun.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Mote of Dust

Out among the stars,
amid the empty vacuum,
lays our fate,
our species’ collective end.
We come from nothingness,
and there we shall one day return.

Do not fear it,
for it is so far distant,
that before them the Earth,
will be gone–
even if by chance,
we manage to move on.

Fear not an end,
for it is only the beginning,
of something bold, new,
even if that is nothingness.
There’s nothing you can do,
so accept it and embrace life.

For time is ever marching us,
inexorably toward our doom,
which means to make the most,
of this mortal existence,
lest the end should come,
and you have no more beginnings.

Bear in mind we are,
but motes of dust,
on the wind and in the air,
in a gusting universe,
which seems endless,
and for us, is.

But do not let it,
burden your heart or mind,
for even the flap of an insect’s wing,
can cause a distant hurricane,
if channeled right,
prepared for flight.

Everything is a discovery,
for a mote of dust,
in a universe as large as ours.
Come to think of it,
I must admit,
I am a little jealous,
of future us.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Love’s Advocacy

Molly and Maxie,
loving and classy,
dance naked in moonlight.
With groin-skin pulled tight,
and echoing moans,
of pleasureful fright.

David and Dennis,
alone each a menace,
but together are kindness.
Their love of one mindness–
and one heart at that–
for together love binds us.

Samantha and Stan,
love just like them.
Together they’re one,
life, and love, and sun,
and happiness at last,
their hearts never could be undone.

So remember next time,
you point out a sign,
for all that you see,
is just love’s advocacy,
and all that we need,
is reflected in thee.