All the Words
• 08/30/20 at 11:06PM •All the words that I write.
All the words that you see.
Why do they come from
A person like me?
I wish I knew, what to say
But my thoughts have gone
Another way.
Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.
All the words that I write.
All the words that you see.
Why do they come from
A person like me?
I wish I knew, what to say
But my thoughts have gone
Another way.
I know I've lost you when
I'm repeating my word to you,
Over, over and over again.
You say it's over,
using the past tense,
isn't the sharpest picket
when you sit on the fence.
Painful to you, in your defense
into our Nation's history
your journey will commence.
I have written about my beloved's
loss of memory,
when I should be writing about
my slow descent into insanity.
I believe my mind was sane before
but now lies in shambles
across the emptiness within.
A rational thought. An elusive one
has broken away and has begun
to pause, before it takes the plunge
into a morass of words,
expressed by me into a
malady of hurt, only I can say,
what is this mess in this brain of mine,
where love not hate does entwine.
The insanity of life on this day
is here now and here it will stay.
Where do you go,
when you're with me?
A sadness is here
and then I see,
you no longer remember we.
I talk of what and how,
we lived our good life
and you reply to me,
"I don't remember or recall,
those parts of our history."
You ask me questions;
"Did you know my Dad?"
I answer you by
saying, "Yes, he was a nice man."
The pain I feel is for thee
and of this life's uncertainty,
for my love for you is
still running strong,
as I wrestle with,
where do you belong.
At what point in
this life sublime,
do I say to you,
"Now is the time/"
The long and short of it all is,
I don't care for this mental whiz,
that tells us the Spanish Flu of 1918,
is what ended WWII, which started
in 1938. Sweet Louise, as someone said,
is this man now brain dead?
I do know one thing about you.
It doesn't matter what you may do,
For all the World, of which I see,
You are still the best part of me.
Be still my love.
Be still tonight,
For tomorrow will bring,
A new, everlasting light.
One more page
in this journal, mine.
Filled with the emotion,
trying to entwine
the feelings of others,
as I try to do,
all of the tales
you said were true.
I love you. I will
love you until,
you tell me to go
and then I will.
It is crazy, as crazy as can be,
hearing all the lies of their hypocrisy .
A picture painted; all Dems. are bad.
It's not the truth; I am sad
for all Repubs. are not the same,
just the Trump crazies, playing a mean game.
I would like to believe the chaos a sham,
coming from the mouth of a ridiculous man.
You lie, plunder and law breaker, you.
Please dear reader, please vote Blue.
My brain, is frozen tight,
so I must now, write and write.
I have my pen, clasped in hand,
as the words pour forth on demand.
Not thinking of what to write,
just let them go, a pure delight.
A spewing of words of ink to paper,
as my hand is cramping; what a caper.
I can't let go of this Pentel pen,
perhaps the ink will run out again.
Who knows more about this day,
than you the reader, as I say
to you my literary reading friend,
should I write true or just pretend.
When love is tender.
When love is right,
Love will last us
Through the long night.