Canvas of Thought

Open up the gates.
Let us fill this empty slate.
Today is the
Day that gives us
Our new start.

Beginning anew,
Many things to learn to do,
By ourselves,
With no one else,
On our own.

Now commences
Challenges
Testing what we think we figured out,
In these four years… of the simpler things.

These four years to prepare us for so much more.
These four years we will not forget.
These four years to say a farewell to four years of great memories.

Of good laughs, good friends, and good times well spent,
Bad jokes and bad sleep every night,
All these memories define who we are up to this day.

Few minutes remain
Of this high school ball and chain.
Soon oh so soon
Starting in June
We are free.

Our future is bright
So nearby and close in sight
From this day on,
The setting sun
Marks the start…

Of so much more
Than these four
Years we already thought took too long.
Those many years of uncertainty.

Those many years we like to call “the rest of our lives”
Those many years in “the real world”
Those many years we did not study or know little about.

Life is a test you cannot seem to retake
You only have one chance to make
The best of it so do your best and do not forget -

Your future is bright;
Few minutes remain.
Beginning anew,
So open up the gates and

Go.

Nuzzled in back and front pockets
Weighing less than its potential
Garnered in green rounds and bundles
Is a weapon of massive destruction

Its face value is misleading.
It can purchase a life —
Or destroy one.
Easy.

Kept hidden in leather cases
Next to pictures of our loved ones
Its eyes glare at the next victim,
To the red gun of massive consumption

Power to those, who are well and wealthy
Power to those, with an agenda stealthy
Power to those, with a lovely inheritance
Death to all, of the above.

They go by The Book,
Not by The Brain.
Purest they do look —
Provokers of the pain.

In a multitude of pages,
Lies the barometer of “good” and “evil”
Established for all ages
Transcendent, medieval.

My fingers mingle through the tissue,
The bloody pages, thin, so thin
Through the words beginning every issue.
When will it end — when did it begin?

When we live life solely by the book…
How wonderful it is, this old, tainted look.

She walked inside the room

Holding two small apples

He walked inside the room

Holding one large orange

-

I found it hard to choose

The fruit I would soon take

She was the favored first

He, a sad second worst

-

I let Fate touch the thread,

My mind — so tangible.

She spun it, threaded tight,

Knitting this mind of fight.

-

I was discontent with

This incomplete product.

Perhaps it is different…

But I enjoy it, knot.

Becoming more and more consumed

In overwhelming, toxic fumes,

I prepare for the worst ahead,

And begin to make the death bed.

-

Becoming immersed in the dark

Abyss of pure uncertainty,

I begin to shut my brown eyes;

The downward curtains close the show.

-

In a foggy future, the past —

Conquered by desire to last.

Did you seize your mind

When you thought the other way?

Looking for a way

To turn off?

——-

How did you manage

To lose so much of yourself

But still have so much left

To turn off?

——-

Nice faces and modified places

Can not hide your stupidity

When you tried

To turn off.

——-

You are correct though,

Life is a switch.

Between life and death, for your “creator”

To turn off.

——-

Lying is one of those baddies

As is being the whore you are;

Those with substance you managed

To turn off.

——-

I see you, almost every day

When I don’t it’s a blessing

I enjoy seeing the light

When you turn off to the dark.

So many years of hard work

Showing in a few digits

So important is the

Sham representation

-

Hello Coal Edge

Here is my number

Highlighted in yellow

High and mighty

-

It reflects the prowess

I possess in academia 

I might also add, my use of 

Intelligent resources.

-

Trying was a second nature

(To cheating, the first)

Tell me I’m too smart

To turn down now?

-

Look at him. 

He’s no success story

He is a human

Of lesser quality

-

Irresponsible 

Yet individual

A horrible combination

Of no societal use

-

This system is perfect

Don’t you see?

People start to want

“Scholars” like me! :D

Brown, robust is the grizzly bear

I know not what he fears:

Is it the thought of settling down,

Sacrificing his title: king of town?

Does he fear the time lost

Resting among the cold and dust?

Perhaps he cannot bear

The cave he would need to share?

Or the discomforting act

Of leaving his cozy habitat?

Perplexing is this mystic mammal

Whose intentions do not compute or channel

Within my limited, desperate mind

That fails to see the untimely bind:

The indocile decision of hibernation

Misunderstood by the impatient imagination.

In the waters so clear and blue,

Lives the shellfish, red and true.

In the seaweed amongst the offspring,

Live the mothers, mouths simpering.

—-

A tidal of testosterone rolls about

Felicitous smiles transition to shout.

The shrimp loses its father by

A wave of pride and tide of lie. 

—-

The hard and stubborn skin,

Is more kind than is kin.

The nude shellfish died with claws of fun,  

The sheltered wives, left with a home to run.

—-

Why would one wear the shell

That deems your skin to household hell?

Because we cannot bear to see

Those naked fathers, bloody the sea.

The glowing rectangle says:

“There is something wrong,

Take it back now

Something is wrong.

—-

Its boxy friend relays the message

It is incorrect

Not good, not right

Incorrect

—-

There goes my sale.

I tried, so much.

Sold my conscious to them,

Sold very, very much.

—-

They pick me up

Only to take me back,

Dropping me off at the store

Then turning their backs.

—-

Re-shelved and stocked, 

Begins the process again.

Many pass and go

One by one, again.