Slice of Pie

Startled by self-expectations & admissions
Exercising prudent restraint
Reservations of trust
Disregarding past suppositions gone awry
Digesting humble pie

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Happy Is…

I view the distant past with malice
– looking back on mortal acts with blame’s disdain –
Relying on my expertise & craftiness
– I cut & paste reality with skill –
Looking for the proper wrench to fit the bolt
– dismantling lock & key for the sake of happiness –
Walking toward the future, emboldened by successes
– dallying to read the warning signs as one approaches goal –

When God Calls His Shots

Been who-doodled long enough, ‘twould be confessed
if nothing more true passed my tight lips
& admittedly I’m perplexed by the comings & goings
of passengers on my train of thought

*

The executioner secondarily poses as saviour of innocents,
those would have been victimized themselves,
had this victim of justice not been euthanized
for sins of impassioned deviant acts, man against man,
for there is no bargaining with a devil on a rant
triggered by false claims of godliness

Is there time to raise the dead?

Hibernation facilitates rejuvenation
Contemplation begets nuance of thought
… raise the dead, praise the dead …

In life it’s a sure thing to sting a little with grief
As a child of nine I no longer had a father,
robbed of his praises for an eternity
No weekend visitation, no victim of divorce,
Mum said he won’t be coming back again, not ever
Left with nothing but an aftertaste of his presence
He played the organ by ear & funded lessons for me
Lingering affections aid digestion of his absence

Daddy was a military man,
a pilot for the USAF, often away on duty,
but we six were not the little soldiers he was molding