POEMS ARE WEIRD (Priorities)

If only priorities were actually
     needs not wants, not desires stacked in order like children's blocks I don't need to be good at
          at basketball i need motivation but the motivations fuels another priority a want, the want to
               impress colleges I enjoy playing basketball enough pleasure for me to classify it as a need
                    but it is more fun when the prioritization of it is taken away I'd rather it be a leisure
                         I need sleep, food and one can say friends because relationships counter insanity
                              but why can't i channel my wants even like a weighing scale My schedule
                                    would be simple and not so structure but my needs at the core Sometimes
                                        i want to throw prioities out the window but it seems so would my
                                             sanity,
             

RANTINGS OF AN OLD MAN SOUND LIKE A POEM (Abbbbcddddeeee)

Weighing my options
Work or pleasure
Such a boundless measure
Confused, sunken treasure.
A faithful, foreboding endeavor
I've always wished it to stop,
Though my mind keeps spinning.
Ambitious lies, a faithless underpinning
Life goes on , it appears I'm winning.
Hopefully the smile, stays grinning.

The work speeds, the pace slows
Where I'm going no one knows.
The present drags, the future glows
Where I'm going no one knows.

UNA POEMA (Keys)

Accepted?
No, congested.
A life continually tested
The space never available
Humans don't fit in
A jigsaw neverending.
The door is closed
For someone, somewhere
Hands tired from pushing.
Let the accepted
Receive their keys,
But stay locked to the foreign
Keeping their steady smiles
Just with their closest friends.
The line   continues
On, but the key for the door
Is in your hands
The more the merrier.

POEMS ARE PLANETS (Waxing Gibbous)

The Moon turning slowly
Over like a sunny-side
Up Breakfast, is just a
Phase.

Green hair receding
Back til wilted and
Cut with dead ends
In their coffins
As the head rotates
Once again, is just a
Phase.

Muddied shoes and
Rockstar hair and
Music that pierces
Ears til bloody,
Earwax protecting, is
Just a
Phase.

Picking and scratching
As the weight piles
Down but he
Still reaches for
The Future
He lays
Down because he
Thinks he is finished, it
Is just a
Phase.

Nearby a ladder
Hides in the grass
And he picks it
Up for it will make
His reach taller
And he relinquishes
That surrender previous
To start a new Phase.

He climbs and climbs
And stumbles, and
Loses footing, but
His feet make contact
With a plastic shelf
And he leans forward
To point and grab,
Then turns away
When inches cannot close
In. Maybe, it is
Just a
Phase.

Inches of air
Separate like
Lilypads floating,
So he leaps
Taking hold of
An imaginary
Foothold that
Seems stable.
And he stays
and struggles,
Body trembling;
He looks down
And up, and
Never down again.
It is not a
Phase. His mind
Is fixed, in
Focus like a
Camera. Never
Again will it be
Just a
Phase.

THIS POEM SUCKS (Puzzle)

I'd rather that routine preoccupy
Than doubt destroy
Distractions of uncertainty
Continually employed
So much work ahead of me;
A hermit's life
Future and present:
The unwed wife.
To be hedonistic,
Keep the cup full
Gazing at the future
Dripping slowly, drool.
Fun is temporary
But more meaningful.
I like to keep it simple,
A one-piece puzzle.

YOU'RE DREAMING WHILE READING THIS POEM (Dreaming)

Life is but a dream?
It is yet more pleasant.
Wake up before the dawn
Rather I'll sleep til the present.
Let it be til the next day
Easier to avoid it.
Smother my waking thoughts
Lest the candle be lit.
The escape, the two
One and the same
Though one within
Receiving equal fame.
The real takes precedent
Fantasy more appealing
Manifesting itself more clearly
Yet unfoundedly councealing
Night and day.
Enter the fray,
Stumbling into battle.
Life and fate
The incessant babble.

JUST A LINK

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