Little DUCK
the father of living
And his puring cat
BIG FAT OF THE LAND
His wife
HAD ON TIME PASSING
HISTORY MAKING
AND ALL KINDS OF BODILY ACTION
AND organismal REACTIONs
Progenated
procreated
Loving both the furniture
the air
all the holes and recesses
of objective reality
and the dismals, voids, indivisables
tortured narrows
they perversely had employed in the name of ownership, possession
of man
as natures natural invention
approved
wordly adored and sanctified
passions of the heart and mind
first and last
of the days start end
future and past
conquering conquered topics
apparently raised and invented to test his
enduring suffering
with his own self pleasing wits
Either that
or as the father earth be my witness
and the motherland be my witted
fitness..
...It all just came about
in a way
didnt please a majority
all of the time
So when she groaned and meowed
and big duck went hunting
not only couldn't he find a solution
compromise
he found himself only hunting at home
with his staples
salt pepper
in the house he erected
hoping someone
a newly
resurrect his whole living space
Which according to tale cound not be screwed together any other way
As he passed his labors in detention
in the space..
"Must be a better way"
to add this all up in his eye
and still arrive
straight in content
and pleasure
not sore or despaired
and pairing
the same little decline
to the same
sored suffering land
So....
he got out his brushes
all the numbers from his rushes
all his faternally loved senses
his fondest rememberances
and lied about the rest
to add all his taxes
capitol gains incentives
to some piece and pocket
exisiting somewhere ...
within the same laboring detention
as the affluent folks who worked at the bank
Your poems are always so abstractive and I can only comment according to my own interpretation each time. Poetry are just that. The poet who writes a poem expects interpretation in varieties from readers. Readers who read poems absorb its meaning according to the experience in their own lives. A successful poem can be read and interpreted in many ways to suit the readers thoughts and experience in life.
Since the passing of time, men had employed their own wits in survival, just as it is written in the times of history, the human race is flexible to changes as times passed, laboring to keep his world within the nature of the world at his best, conquering what needs to be conquered. Sometimes what he puts into the labour is just not enough.
In this world – to be honest is just sometimes not the solution. We slaved all our lives, giving into the volume of the time spent that is necessary to build up the time volume of our life, our mate’s life, and the passing of the world history and mother nature altogether, pre-written for us by our Creator, yet, we often find ourselves at wit’s ends, not knowing what to do in the future to make things better.
The instinctive survival skill the human race was given to us, no matter how our books were written for us in the past, present, and future. We’ve learned to compromise and/or find ways to make life easier. Some find ways to make money in the least amount of time spent, saving time and labours, pocketing profits, and live comfortably, but some just slave and enjoy their work as it was meant to be as it was written into their lives by our Creator.
Was this the reason why some people who are very successful, made lots of money, had shorter lives span than those who did everything by the book? One has to count the time volume that is spent, as well as the time volume that has been saved and stored away to make a life on earth.
The fact is the time slot for everyone who live on earth is pre-programmed, as in the movie MATRIX, it’s hard to believe that we are not objects of a world that is pre-programmed for us to live in, each of us taking our own spot as it is written. Like a computer system, some met with efficiencies and could work faster, and some slower; and mother nature is just one great big computerized system.
Anyway, that is just my thoughts in connection to reading your poem.
Your poems are always very thought-provoking, they always give me chains of thoughts after reading them.
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Your poems are always so abstractive and I can only comment according to my own interpretation each time. Poetry are just that. The poet who writes a poem expects interpretation in varieties from readers. Readers who read poems absorb its meaning according to the experience in their own lives. A successful poem can be read and interpreted in many ways to suit the readers thoughts and experience in life.
Since the passing of time, men had employed their own wits in survival, just as it is written in the times of history, the human race is flexible to changes as times passed, laboring to keep his world within the nature of the world at his best, conquering what needs to be conquered. Sometimes what he puts into the labour is just not enough.
In this world – to be honest is just sometimes not the solution. We slaved all our lives, giving into the volume of the time spent that is necessary to build up the time volume of our life, our mate’s life, and the passing of the world history and mother nature altogether, pre-written for us by our Creator, yet, we often find ourselves at wit’s ends, not knowing what to do in the future to make things better.
The instinctive survival skill the human race was given to us, no matter how our books were written for us in the past, present, and future. We’ve learned to compromise and/or find ways to make life easier. Some find ways to make money in the least amount of time spent, saving time and labours, pocketing profits, and live comfortably, but some just slave and enjoy their work as it was meant to be as it was written into their lives by our Creator.
Was this the reason why some people who are very successful, made lots of money, had shorter lives span than those who did everything by the book? One has to count the time volume that is spent, as well as the time volume that has been saved and stored away to make a life on earth.
The fact is the time slot for everyone who live on earth is pre-programmed, as in the movie MATRIX, it’s hard to believe that we are not objects of a world that is pre-programmed for us to live in, each of us taking our own spot as it is written. Like a computer system, some met with efficiencies and could work faster, and some slower; and mother nature is just one great big computerized system.
Anyway, that is just my thoughts in connection to reading your poem.
Your poems are always very thought-provoking, they always give me chains of thoughts after reading them.
Love reading your work!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)