Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living - a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a bounce,
a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing.
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states,
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab
And a ravening second.

Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained
Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats
Gives their days this bullet and automatic
Purpose? Mozart's brain had it, and the shark's mouth
That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its own
Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which
Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it
Or obstruction deflect.

With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback,
Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk,
Carving at a tiny ivory ornament
For years: his act worships itself - while for him,
Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and
above what
Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils
**** and hosannah, under what wilderness
Of black silent waters weep.

Pickled on quixotic tonics
he strives for a polyglot's poise,
balancing plaster peas
at the end of his tippler's tongue.

But the rough-surfaced pearls prickle
his too-ticklish bed of pink,
and gulped down, he administers
only a lessoned indigestion.

Flipping the flop, he prevaricates
himself into the tight-fit corners
of a parallelogram traced
by unsolemn processionals

bedecked in platitudinous finery.
Their porous smirks drip sticky
reminders of a plethora
of previously pernicious exercises

and dampen his fluffy ambition,
prodding procrastinations until
his drunken promise dries out
to become a posthumous wish.

Should I care less or should I care more
Is she a princess or is she a filthy *****
She swears she"s never done this before
As her clothes are spread upon the floor

You need to get your priorities straight and settle on a career
Stare at the wall and sing along as you drink your 98th beer
Continue to stall, it's the same old song again stuck in your ear
Resolutions fall as we all collectively clamor for the next year

Procrastinations penetrate my existence like a freshly sharpened blade
Distractions claim me with persistence as another flight gets delayed
Obligations infiltrate my resistance like an enemy army would invade
Aspirations of rainy day"s assistance to cancel the meaningless parade

Entangled lies leading to this ever complex web that we all weave
What and whys bleeding into the conversational goal to deceive
Wide open eyes shocked into truth on his first real Christmas Eve
Someone dies every .9 seconds yet we still lack the will to believe

Who knew, who knew I would end up in pain
Who knew I would lose my way and go insane
My heart beating so many times in fear
I try to cry, I force myself, what do I see - not a tear
I stare at myself in the mirror thinking what could have made me differ
What make me special, I'm I worth less of trillions of dollars or more
I try to make changes and life decisions
I tell myself to think and presume - presumptions
Life can be what you want it to be in the future I guess
Sometimes I look back to the past and think about the rest
Who knew, who knew my first sentence in a poem would be who knew
Maybe I did, who knew my first thought would be regret
I look at my past and now, I think about the changes, decisions, accusations, moments of empathy and sympathy, and procrastinations that I made
Look at me, all you may see in me is darkness deep deep inside but I know there is a light, all you need to do is  find it with a caring heart
For who I am is who I want to be, I can change
And I can be a better person
All you need to do is believe and give me a chance
Have hope and we could have our first dance
Or even our last

THE ART OF PROCRASTINATION

I have often wondered, and I have often thought,
That I have often delayed without there being any cause.
I often over think and I often codgitate,
Procrastinating over my procrastinations of the day.

Over thinking needlessly, postponed imagined pain.
Second guessing everything. Oh why must I delay?
I know that it's important so why do I delay?
I know that it's my only chance.
Hold on... I'm running away.

And what will happen if I fail?
Oh and what will people think?
And what if I have got it wrong?
... Maybe I'll rethink.

The point of all this pondering, is to try to tell myself
To never let a moment pass without giving me a chance.

"So what!" If people laugh.
"So what!" If I lay dashed.
At least I'll know within myself that I've given me a chance.

For now I'll live on with regret, every day,
And think about those who seem so far away.
What would have happened & where would I be?
Oh if only I'd...

If only indeed.

John Flanagan 21/11/2016

Politics of power politics of greed, politics we don't really need
Words with no meaning, words of war, words to exasperate all the wrongs of before
Men in bowler hats from higher degrees of education, Suffragettes in suits with their posh procrastinations
Radicalised preachers disguised as primary school teachers, morals and values that have no worth, morals and values to discolour our earth
Politicians with a fame fascination, politicians on their own inert instruction
Politics of verbal constipation, designed in a way you will never comprehend, politics of corruption and manipulation,  politics to make your thoughts unlawfully twist and bend
Politics that so easily steal from a dying hand, politics that allows our old to die where they stand
The politicians expense account, this just helps the animosity amount, our money, our stability our very existence, put to one side and dealt with the utmost of contempt if you offer up any form of resistance
Politics of minorities who the majority doesn't want or need and should rightfully and respectfully be abolished, when you look at our world  our people, and how they suffer, the responsibility lays firmly at their feet for with their megalomaniac ways , our world they have tarnished
I personally do not vote, how can I, when all they do is lie, I'm sure in-between, this cataclysmic scene, someone has the heart, the integrity and honour to want to serve the people of their nation, but I guess , like the rest , they'll accept their payout, sign on a dotted line, and never scream, never shout

A hand upon my back
Does push, beyond my pace,
Rare thoughts to mind, and race
My soul; body the track.

From whence does force conjure
Such rude audacity
To ***** and **** at me
With sprigs sharp, long, nasty?

These procrastinations
Do haunt my mortal life,
Like fresh lacerations
From madman wielding knife.

Face pale and drawn, eye's dull,
I give it up and lean
Into that blade in hand
Of god who's eyes do glean,
with thirst and reprimand.

Joey defrancesco  
Jazzes up  the house flyes
Just "in that order".

Spoons of coffee grounds
Slam my  procrastinations
Some dark thoughts are lost

A "mellow mood" ripens

The one who tries never fails.
It does not matter how many times you tried.
It does not matter how much time it takes.
It does not matter what will be the repercussions.
But it really matters how you make up with the situation.
How you handle your emotions.
The power of hard work never fails.
The diligent person never fails.
Hard times teach you how to survive.
You are preparing more and more.
Each passing day you acknowledge more and it adds to your dictionary.
So without winding up your heart and mind.
Open your heart and ready for the procrastinations.
Believe in your instincts.
Follow your aim without thinking twice.
And endeavor more and more.
You never know, when you cut the mustard.
And raise your head with more satisfaction and contentment.

I find myself staring at you,
I find myself wondering aimlessly from window to water thinking that I won’t see shades of blue,
I guess what they say is true; “out with the old and in with the new”,
but I truly dislike the new because it doesn’t feel like you,
but lately I sense you realizing that too.
I miss my old reflection

You have these deep shallow notions that plague your mind,
wondering if every little thing you see is god giving you some sort of divine sign,
yet you drown yourself with countless forms of procrastinations in order to get that one moment where your mind will tell you its time. You need to realize that you’re near the finish line.
I fear my new way of thought.

Do you suffer from lust or gluttony?
Do you swerve from lane to lane like a drunk driver rushing to the final destination carelessly?
Do you stare at the bottom of a bottle and wonder if this is could be my last?
Or do you drift through this ocean of life aimlessly?
I question my life