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some people say they are happy
some people act like they're sad
some people seem to be in-between
being neither good nor bad

some people out there are reckless
some people in here are refrained
some people elsewhere are helpless
and need a hand every now and again

some people hold onto sorrow
closed tight in the palm of their hands
never once giving tomorrow
any chance to dance at a second chance

some people have learned to move mountains
others fall off of cliffs
some people are like city fountains
others barely can form a drip

some people always look for the best
some can't see past their nose
some people need to give it a rest
some need to learn to let it all go

some people see only their needs
never once caring for others
some people bleat like they are sheep
some would rather stay under the covers

some people are over anxious
about what might come next
are you some of these people
and what will you do with the time you have left

to effect....some people
Sitting sipping watching
With one eye on door
Waiting for old comrades
He knows he’ll see once more
Those left upon the battlefield
Fighting by his side
The men he toasts a drink to
With a tear in his eye
He’ll tell you all his stories
To keep his mates alive
And how it is his honour
That they helped him survive
So if you see a veteran
Sit with him for a while
Listen to his wisdom
And keep his memories alive
Zhey is to Them as Zhee is to It...
The argument: God got it wrong.
Your singular identikit:
A plural and psychotic song
The selfish language of the young:
Confusion -- that’s your mother tongue.

The pronoun wars have lost the day.
We shall not call you what you wish,
Nor let you serve yourself this way
From your strange cracked and leaking dish.
Freshmen claim to be dysphoric,
Acting merely sophomoric.

We get it. You’re a special kid.
You came, confused, from mama’s womb
With daddy’s chromosomes outbid
By better buyers, we assume.
Have your tantrum—we won’t take it.
Girls are girls and boys can’t fake it.

Regardless how you cut and paste
Or wax autistic at your foes . . .
Reality can’t be defaced
And sin’s rebellion ever shows.
Your gender was confirmed at birth
When you arrived on God’s green earth.

Proud warrior of the gender war:
Change Romance languages, and ***.
Then count your chromosomes once more…
Till Y no longer follows X,
The Lord is God. That does not change
His truth has power to derange.
DYSPHORIC:
adjective; pertaining to dysphoria,
or of being in a state of dysphoria
For us,
the older generation
we took pictures and videos
to remember
The seasons of our lives.
To share with generations;
grandchildren, children,
Our husbands and wives.

Sadly, as we get older
We don’t remember
our old lives
As time grows colder
The memory fades
the reasons we capture
the moment..
The names of the people
in the photographs
escape our recollection

Before it’s too late
we need to
write
at least a paragraph
  of each picture.
Before the memory is lost
from our mind completely
and then they’re just people.

These little paragraphs
added to your photo album
will create a lasting
picture book memoir

Generations
after you were gone,
Your story will live.
Even if you were never
rich and famous,
did something extraordinary,
Such as;
paint, a masterpiece, right a symphony
the point is you lived!
When you were gone and generations, ask who you were, you won’t just be a name you will show them through the photographs that you lived, and you loved.
hear listen to the sound
of the crisp snow spinning the air
say hello where are you
say farewell to the old moon
while rivers are carrying their quiet darkness
and all the poems untouched
by emptiness
remake or retake
get drunk with lucidity
get high as the wind passing through
untold stories
Out of gratefulness came gracefulness.

A grateful being makes
a graceful being.


Shell ✨🐚
Hello little star
I see your little light
So high up in the sky
But I know you're burning bright
So far away in space
A million miles away
I long to touch your face
And soon I will some day
From earth your light seems dim
But I know this isn't true
So I'll take off through the heavens
In my rocket ship I flew
Quick in your direction
I am hurling like a comet
There you are to guide me
I'm in love and cannot stop it
A star that burns so fiercely
So brightly in the sky
Baby I'm your astronaut
So come with me and fly
.
Such beauty in phrase
That of, "Cellar door."
But I'd argue, "Hello Lovely."
Is just that and so much more.
Your intensely keen and mean supremeness
Makes me feen for you to take me
In your wicked heavenly wings
Lead me beyond reality
Into your saucy chocolate galaxy
Where I absorb your inexorable flourishing gorgeousness

Feel you pour your cosmic four-star glory
All over my curvy immersive form
Let me be your extraordinary evocative poem
Take in your enchanting and energizing stanza and line
Read me sexually, breathe me into your system
Make love to the wild divine rhymes
Of my sublime shining design

Stretch the depths of my homosexualness
Make my heartbeat dance gleefully
The more whisper compelling melting words in my ear
I wanna feel you touch me
Like a cultivated fragrant rose
Like clean silken bedsheets

Let your astonishing charmingness
Encircle my inner world
Cover me in your majestic expressive affection
Let me rest against your manly muscled pecs
Rub your seductive brushy beard
Kiss your sparkling chocolate lips

Feel your sheer warmth all over me
Sink into your sinfully scented slickness
Where I romanticize about your dreamy brown eyes
In the deepest indigo night
Folded in your astounding dopeness
Needing you the most
Feeling so soft on your impossibly
Spectacular and worshipful charm
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