Poem 119: What I don't know

What I don't know, at times, accentuates what I do
and turns choice into a twisting-turning pot of goo
securing future thoughts inside a basket
woven from the finest heart strings of desire
and splitting mind inside it
with complete and utter confusion.

Piled around this mass emotion of knots
what I don't know acts against me
coercing me to explore the uncharted territory of life
while meanwhile, imploring me, in varied form
to move away from those things which taunt my soul
and instead, attempts to pull me towards the comfort of what is known.

What I don't know beckons me, and inhibits me.
It calls me forward, and chains my feet to the floor.
It drags me in front of myself, and then bars me from my own view.

What I don't know saves me from what I could know
yet pleads with me to investigate a deeper truth.
The search is on, and I'm certain that soon

What I don't know now, will become the 'truth' I always knew.

Poem 118: I 'thunk' thoughtful thinking thoughts

Someone once said to me,
"What you do not know can't hurt you"
but I think that what they really meant was:
What you're sure about can pain.

It seems like days go on
and what I know becomes a burden
while truths I'm unaware of may
just mentally dissipate. 

So, do not tell me any more
to stretch my mind, or challenge thought
because I'm sure that 98% of
what you say's already 'brained'

My problem is, in life,
is that there's always more to think
there's thoughts to be rethunk
and some that blossom from that think.

There's thinkings to be thought about
and more to be compared
sometimes there's too much thought being thunk
and mind needs to be cleared.

Poem 117: DREAMingCOLD

Its cold now that the sun has left
the heat has left my feelings deaf
and now as my limbs frozen rise
I'm sure that sleep has caught my eyes.
For in the moments that I stood
the pain beneath me grew and should
have knocked me off my feet, but then
a small soft hand, and strong wide grin
from far away held up my weight
and in that moment of changed fate
I realized there was no mistake
for surely I was not awake
but in the guise of dreamer's state.

Poem 116: Too Much

There is too much to do in one lifetime

Though I could fill up one life with this one rhyme.

If I make it short

Then perhaps there’ll be more

Room for life-writing once it's o'er.

Poem 115: Giving-up

I failed once today
And sent some hope astray.
I failed twice and then
Sighed but held my grin.
I failed thrice and now I know
I’ll try as long as I can go.

When failing four and five and six
Moving-on is near this mix.
But stubborn still I fail again
Now seven, eight and nine and then
The tenth time I am sure I’ll win

But, nope. I fail once again.

Poem 114: RIP The Internet

No internet, is hard to think

An empty space; a cyber leak

What do I do if I don’t have

The helpful, well used internet?

Where will I find those answers to

The questions that are in my head?

Or stream movies when I’m off to bed?

Google can’t rescue me now.

No Facebook to ask friends to help.

Does 911 respond to calls

When the internet is dead?

Poem 113: A word to Realign the Movements in a Sentence of Love From a Bigger Being

I sat there, just thinking of my own shortcomings

Not wanting to be stirred by the desire to fly or sing

but desiring above all, the pity in which I laid my heart 

to mourn the lonely tears of being a broken being.

In the silence I pondered the reason behind the tears of mourning 

and found a stillness where no person seemed to dwell

But, in the absence of life there was one still breath.

It stood beyond the pools of sunlight that dripped with new dew of the morning.

As I approached it, the world transformed around me 

as if a new day had alighted upon me in the middle of a time so full of distress.

Then, in the silence there wasn't silence any longer.  

The sounds slowly became unbearable, 

much like the constant ticking of a grandfather clock in an empty house.  

The steady, rhythmic pattern overwhelmed my soul 

until my ears burst to shards that kill from the quiet noise, 

loud amongst the silence.

I sat in such a state: 

Eardrums beating hard against the emptiness.

Their steady soundings hard and fast and predictable in an unusually unnoticeable way.

And then the drumming broke as bread is broken in communion: soft and inaudibly.

And the flowing of a refreshing stream calmed the stiffness of the peace, and gentled the rhythm of the sunshine dancing upon reflections in the lake of time.

It was these words that brought rest to the frigged bones that watched the world change in mind.

"You aren't meant to bare alone."

and then the silence returned, as if a wind had simply blown by.

Poem 112: (aBdgmnorsw)

Bananagram 

words

swarm

around

grounds

grand

as

man

arms

warm

around

woman

or

sword

wars

and

adorn

wrong

sad

worn

gas

roads

Poem 111: One

One is a one-sound word that has its own ring and tone and form, and loans NOT one

Second meaning.

Poem 110: It Isn't What You Think

It isn't what you think.

You'll read what you will read.

Those thoughts inside your head.

They sing of past gone memories.

It isn't what you think.

You'll see what you will see.

The picture in your head's.

created by you, not by me.

The truth that's found inside your thoughts.

It's deeper showing not my heart

but yours, my friend.

So look instead, to you

and don't read me.