Category: Poetry

  • They Tell Me to Show and Not Tell

    They say show, not tell, but even that they only tell. 

    But then wrapped up in a shell, it becomes entertainment hell.

    Unseen metaphors are dead because “this is all there is.”

    “What you see is what you get” is the thought.

    And all you get is thinly veiled nonsense.

    But then again… Either way.

    It seems even when we tell, nothing is heard.

    People hear if they want to hear.

    What they want to hear.

    I am, of course, no different.

    I hear what I choose to hear.

    This is inescapable.

    So, it really doesn’t matter if you show.

    It definitely doesn’t matter if you tell.

    There is only a choice in reception.

    Life does a lot of showing.

    And still few see.

    Sometimes I wish Life just told.

    It would all be a lot simpler.

    But even then… Perhaps less fun.

    I tell so that I can show.

    I show so that I can tell.

    The rest is not up to me.

  • Scrimmaging Dogs

    I tucked through an alley on a somewhat sunny day in Amsterdam,

    Coming across loose dogs in an unsuspecting cobblestone arena,

    One was ferociously strong with a black coat and mangey, twisted fur,

    The other hound was snowy and clean with quick and silent paws,

    Watching as the two go scrap for scrap over fishbones and trash,

    Two different methods in this spirited streetfight of claws and teeth,

    I cheered the white one as it seemed to be the right thing to do,

    Kicking at the black dog that was so vulgar I couldn’t bare its sight,

    But the white one protested and he bit at my exposed ankles,

    To my surprise, I leaped backwards in hurt betrayal,

    But the dogs simply resumed their fight with even more vigour,

    And then a large grey dog came to my side and simply sat,

    In his mouth was more fish bones that he threw into the fray,

    Just looking on, as these enemies showed no mercy,

    But the grey dog’s amusement made me ponder this sight,

    Perhaps I thought it too simple and  they were no enemies at all, 

    It could be that one is needed for the other to be,

    Scrimmaging endlessly in these unseen battlefields,

    Away from the busy eyes of human market streets,

    A fun little boxing club among mates as they do their dance.

  • That’s Christmas, Baby

    The cold reaching frost of December’s gruesome winds

    Packed inside to escape such chilling and aching bites

    In the heart of darkness with hardly a sight of day

    A LIGHT LEAPS!

    That’s Christmas, baby!

    It’s the new beginning!

    A comeback story!

  • Judgement

    Seeing my faults, I look into others and believe there is something to be seen,

    As if by my eyes there is something I can see that is not immediately on the scene.

    Alas, this is my folly once again, as other men know nothing about me or my way,

    So why should I believe that I am any different even if I stand after winter in May?

    Hypocrisy is a terrible crime, but I cannot really know when it has been committed,

    It could be another paradise lost if my self-righteous judgement is not omitted.

    It is up to the divine as a complete whole to place judgements and give final verdict,

    I may be a piece of that divinity, but only through blank slated actions can we serve it.

    The best thing I can do is forgive and forget, and hope my wants lead to just ends,

    Even then! Even then, knowing many of my wrongs, I can with every enemy make amends.