That is That

The phantom arises with no big surprises,

The extension of attentions that quickly capsizes, 

Entering the digestions of the midnight suggestions,

Resting on the post of the lethal injection,

Come one come all to the life experience temperament ball,

Jungle sounds and crawling encrustations,

All which resemble the leaders of nations,

Quickly it burns as the churning is ignited,

Becoming the savior of the rest home excited,

The growling of puppets with knife dripping rules,

The snarling dog that glows in the dark drools,

Some lap it up like a crackhead with tools,

The things that I'm seeing are laughing and such,

Can't believe the nerve of the flip flop wood crutch,

It's simple in sound for which you were bound, 

And now it is time to lay on this ground, 

No more recollections of the glistening directions,

It's the end of my shift its time for infections....

This and That

What is the light without the dark,
What is a dog without it's bark,
What is a stadium without it's crowd,
Is the world ever heard,
Do you think it is loud,
Or is the sound of everything as soft as a cloud,
Can you have this without that,
Can you have water but no wet,
Can you breathe in the air but still have no breath,
Do you think the wind know from which, why, or from whence it blows,
Is the world round or still flat,
Or is to those that witnessed just that,
Can you yell all alone in a tirade of pain,
When you do is it it still pain,
Or do you need a witness to confirm that you're sane,
What is the frost without the mastery of cold,
What is the hot when the sun shines so bold,
Are the rays real or do you have to see,
The reason you may ask if you were a tree,
Can you still have a soul without extending your hand,
Or are you simply dismissed as the one that won't stand,
Questions are questions but at first they are thoughts,
But without someone listening life is just not,
Not to be done or even to end,
But to simply take over for yourself you defend....
   

Amongst the Thorns

          In a field of thorns there grows a simple but beautiful flower with the most stunning colors that Mother Nature could muster.  this particular flower has been growing for fifteen years, but early in the fourteenth year of growth in the infancy of Spring 2013, there was something different.  Looking at the amazing flower is something that everyone did.  Not because this was the only flower, but because this was the only flower amongst the thorns.  This is why we knew there was something different.  The colors were not as magnificent and instead of staying in bloom all day the once vibrant flower would only bloom for a few waking hours each day.  The flower was starting to droop and have an almost sad look to it.  After trying many different things to bring the color back to it's original glorious beauty, we finally discovered what was ailing her.  There were aphids all over her leaves and this is what was causing all of these horrible problems.  The solution was to introduce a few lady bugs to the flower.  The lady bugs found and fed on the nasty aphids  and after a while the lady bugs ate every last aphid.  The next Spring, the Spring of 2014, the beautiful flower was growing strong and once again popped her beautiful pink pedals high above the thorns.  Now she will only grow brighter and stronger from here on out.  If the aphids return, they best beware of the lady bugs waiting to make them their lunch to protect my beautiful daughter...

Tug-O-War

Exchange for the strange merely to rearrange the happening of the free roaming stranger,
The days get longer and the lights become neighbors to the night which once held the right,
Exceptional things happening in a brain that is electrified with the though of the is the was and the are nots,
Happening again is the traditional sin of the of the 19th century clown with the distorted grin,
Bumps in the night and things that aren't right and good things that trigger a fight,
Flash mob contained and all is okay for the oohs the ahs and all the hoorays,
Stranger it becomes as the time goes on,
 With the marksmanship strike from the staging death gripe,
Alliance and disorder makes a run for the boarder and some of the weirder things like a fishing boat transporter,
Nearing the was and the is and the and then all the writing ends with the loss of his hand,
The band becomes louder and the night has won again,
The day will now go back into hibernation....