Old world words

Their lives were not given to glory; These graves are not here for their valor. The names were carved in memoriam,  Lest We Forget the horror of war.

Pathways stretched about in each direction,  Round the bend we caught each other's eye; Eventually we found a shared affection, Growing in a love none could deny. Now we start a brand new chapter here, A fresh, exciting,  journey is apparent; Never ones to stray away from fear, The news, my friends, is that we've fallen pregnant!!!!

Let’s count the decades one and two And soon there’ll be one more; But first do let me tell you of what’s gnawing at my core. Perhaps it’s all inside my head And simply, this is true: Ought I not be happy as my birthday date comes due? It’s curious that I am sad With so much going right; Why’s anger and anxiety thus plaguing through my life? O’ do I long for birthdays past With my excitement pent; Where this year there’s just sadness, my excitement all but spent. My birthday is around the bend  But no joy’s come to pass; Everything feels shallow, has my whole life been a farce? Another decade come and gone Now’s Time to count to three; Three decades of a person who was happier than me. 

We scramble to save the world from an immediate threat. There are no deniers. None. Let’s give Climate Change the Carona treatment.

Special are the days we celebrate The birth of loved ones old and young alike. Taken with the fun and revelry We clap and cheer the dawning of a life. Throughout our own lives lived it’s much repeated, We share in love and happiness this Day; There’s cake and presents shared, well-wishing said, A song we sing with smiles on display. Make all you will of cake and gifts receive’d For Time will catch us all up in the end. As life begun will also be bereave’d When dusk does fall on family and friends. Happy birthday, to those whos sun today doth shine; As well to You whos sun has set on thine.         

He was the Golden Boy of Labors past And held the record for the quickest yard; His love for all Australians beyond class, A mediator, effective, with high regard. Bob Hawke was a Pime Minister for all; On progress he campaigned passionately; His projects and reforms were overhauls;  Our Medicare, our whole economy! Let’s talk plainly lest we forget the stakes; There’s little time to go fore we decide. Another leader passed and our hearts break As dire straits have now been amplified! Don’t let Bobs legacy be all for naught, Let’s end the foul stagnation that he fought. 

Have you ever felt As if you are responsible- At least, in part- For a tragedy? Something in which Because of your actions, However small, Absolutely contributed to the outcome? We cannot deny There are certain points in life That, If given the chance, We would change. However, there is only one thing I truly regret: Being cruel instead of kind To somebody whom it is too late to say I’m sorry.

It starts with a thought or idea in my head Which begins to be brought to fruition As I put it in lines on a page to be read With a scan and some mild disquisition. I never know quite of which words I will choose; The exactness of phrasing, or placement. Much of the form and it’s functions I’ll use Are applied while preparing the statement. Take for example this stanza you’re reading; I’ve written it three or four ways. However, I found that the words I was typing Did not convey what I was trying to say. You see, poetry, prose, even talking to mates, It’s important to keep this in mind: The how in the way your idea permeates Is the what in which it is defined. So when you decide to give form to a vision Be clear in the way that you go. You don’t have to plan every step or provision But carry the tools apropos.     

All it does is listen as I speak into the void; There’s no judgement in its function, it can’t even get annoyed. When I want to save a conversation on the go, Or else when I’m alone and need to talk, then even so. There’s nothing that I cannot tell my silent confidant; Furthermore, within, it holds potential enchant. Take with you this, if all else said you do not wish to hear: A microphone can ofttimes help when none can lend an ear.  

Please, An Ibuprofen. Now!

This may blow your mind: I enjoyed The Last Jedi And that is okay.

My egg, you sat so delicate and small Upon the bed I’d carefully prepared; Your shell a baby smooth, no cracks at all Did show. In truth, I was a little scared. Then out you came at last with a beak and feet Much bigger than the rest of your proportions; First steps were tricky ‘fore you gained the feat Of waddling round in child-like contortions. As Time passed through our lives we learned together- Don’t cry that I’m to leave sooner than thought- Remember well my egg you’ve still your feathers; Your wings will carry you when I am naught.         We all must leave the nest one day my dear, Of that I am certain. Now fly, and have no fear. 

Last time I posted Obama was President. So much has changed since.

This is not an issue isolated to the UK, this is a global trend that seems to be caused by a collective form of amnesia that the world has fallen to recently. Apparently it makes us forget all that history we were taught about fascism and how bad it was the last time. Trump is another manifestation of this, as is the current refugee policy in Australia. We need to remember that people of different cultures, sexualities, etc... are NOT the reason for all the ills in society. We need to remember that telling a person with different coloured skin or an accent, who may or may not be from a different country, to leave is not only poor manners but leads to the same dehumanization that ultimately allowed the Nazis to commit genocide. Remember: If we ignore it, it’s not about if but when.   (Rhyming ‘rest’ with ‘rest’, what a stroke of genius! >_>)

You’re kind You’re funny You’re smart You’re goofy You’re joyful You’re cute You’re the most likable person I know. So why does your success make me sick to my stomach?

That’s all for now! Stay tuned for more in the future ;)

The Jedi are weak, Introspective warriors With good intentions.