Monday, August 17, 2015

There's no trying in wasteball

Well, it came as a surprise on a balmy day
this feeling in size that grew out of a the bay
of the still waters that carry belief,
if only I was a better me I'd not have this grief.

Fuck that shit. I'm sick and tired of wasted trying.

Trying to do all the things I was told that would bring
me to happiness and riches of gold... worn out and old.

Trying to please everyone in my space who gives me their
time and just smirks at my face... in a moment of their
precious time and space. I smile at the mischief as they
have stolen my face. Another smirk that is hard to erase.
I tried to play, I cry inside, and I'm laughing at sickness
that I was trying to hide.

Come out, come out, wherever you are... Huckle Buckle Beanstalk
you live in a glass jar... and it 's jarring.

I could see years wasted in trying and good, and throw in some hope
for good measure too, trying is tiring but it's the right thing to do...

for a soap on a rope or a pretty clean dope. 

A wasteland has pasted my intentions on a wall, it's
pretty confusing but I've dropped the ball. I can't try anymore...
it's not really what I was looking for. A like is pathetic when your
looking to score. No one cares that you're trying to's a snore,
and a colossal bore. I'll not try anymore.

A perfect desire is a prefect disaster... are you really sure of what
you are after? It takes a while and a toll as well, trying and hoping
is another road to hell. Been there and done that, but it seems so right...

But not right now and not tonight.

I'm wasting my time on a nowhere flight.

Tomorrow it will be out of mind and outta sight. All right! Dang. Duh...

it will be less of a fight.

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Quicksand or Beach

All we want and all we know is just a mystery
in a mainstream show. The slip is showing,
your child-self knows the joke. Can you laugh

at yourself and all the absurdities of a belief
that is a be-lie. You will not die if you question,

Why? Human being, why are you trying
so hard to fit in with an old shoe, you wonderful
but obedient you. It is time that you knew...

Your senses are lies in the whys of your earthly disguise.

Eyes can see outside and mind decides, ears can hear words and things
held dear, it's just noise my dear. Touch has gotten you into some trouble,
an outstretched reach to heal another... is double trouble. The nose knows
nostalgia from a smelled past, another comfort for a sense that can't last.

It is senseless to guess the meaning of life, it just flows like water across a thirsty
land to a destiny of beach or quicksand. It is a black or white endeavor that a
heart will not understand. A child keeps asking why, as a philosopher states
because it Is that way. How wry.

Give up asking and you will intuit... there's really nothing to it.

The merry-go-round is a timeless ride, click whatever channel you need
to survive and be bold...

Did you really come here at this time to be old?

A new kindergarten is waiting for tomorrow, between a beach and quicksand
it transcends your senseless yet timely earth sorrow.

I feel this right now... but I can assure myself that it will change tomorrow.