does love exist

Does love exist?

 

Is there any such thing, as real love?

A parent’s love, notwithstanding,

Do feelings or emotions, push and shove,

Depending on whom, they are landing,

 

Can love be bitter, leave you fuming,

Caring too much, to be true, to ourselves,

But real love, for a fellow human,

Fearing most of all, we’d be left on those shelves,

 

Could it be that some of us care,

Just a little too much, now and then,

Not selfish enough, to be willing to share,

All we once had, before love began,

 

Could it be we covet whomever we have found?

And stick with them, through thick and thin,

Owning another, whom to us are soul bound,

Should they stray, it being a mortal sin?

 

As a possession treat them, as though they are ours,

Possessing their right, to perform certain things,

Is this where love or religion flowers,

Adding insult to injury, make them wear our rings,

 

Can we say we truly are in love?

Or are we saying, we own someone’s soul,

Jealousy to the fore has been shoved,

A need to restrict them, in more than one goal,

 

Procreation, or to be precise, having sex,

Or making love, no matter the time or place,

Why then do one night stands, make us vexed,

With a stranger we can’t recall their face,

 

Maybe its confirmation, of commitment to a mate,

Perhaps it only exists briefly time,

When truth arrives, it’s sealed our fate,

All in love is never fine,

 

So does love exist and is it real,

Does it bond us one and all to share,

Or in stolen moments, we sometimes to steal,

The best we can hope for, is someone who cares,

family ties

Family ties

 

Is it because I, was one too many,

Or perhaps, just too much,

Yet I wasn’t the last, seems uncanny,

You pegged me, worrisome, as such,

 

Maybe I was different, than all who went before,

But the same, in an unusual kind of way,

But our values seemed the same, at our core,

Years now and still, you have little or nothing to say,

 

Family means everything, I hear you spout,

You would do anything for yours,

But you choose those who are in, those to leave out,

Setting example, by closing your inner doors,

 

Being older, the younger ones, looked up to you,

Was it too much pressure to lead the way,

Time and age, has crept up on us all its true,

Seems it’s too late now, to want to have a say,

 

Nowadays I hear “life is too bloody short “to fight,

You need time, with those, whose memory you share,

When support was in need, you’d had taken flight,

Never looking back, to see what was left there,

 

My path was laid, before I could walk,

My future mapped out, before my time,

My words formed, long before I could talk,

My actions put me, on a different line,

 

Now you need, our paths to cross,

It’s only right, we show the world,

With the passage of time, you feel huge loss,

Stood alone here, I have since unfurled,

 

The gap in age, from first to last,

The rush to leave, that nesting place,

Survival gained, the cost, you’re past,

Siblings, now a strangers face.

good manners

Good manners

 

I sit in many rooms, visit many places,

Tasted magic mushrooms, seen lots of weird faces,

I visit the pub, as I drink a bit,

Eat any old grub, when I see fit,

But always, I have good manners,

 

I’m young at heart; I’ve had my fun,

I played my part; I’ve walked and run,

Never hard to find, sat in plain sight,

I spoke my mind, stood tall to fight,

Yet still, I held good manners,

 

When I was young, I tried my best,

Yes, wild I’d run, with vigour and zest,

Dear old father would chase me down,

Turn many a smile into a frown,

Upon me, he put those manners,

 

Learned with my peers, to get along,

Went through the gears, sometimes got it wrong,

And on in life, kept trying hard,

Love the wife, my one trump card,

Now she keeps me in good manners,

 

Time is chasing close behind, I am slowing down,

Soon I’ll be easier to find, no longer running round,

My smile intact, as I recall,

Looking back, when I’d stand or fall,

There always were, good manners,

 

At times I felt I was of use, or felt that I was not,

Age is never an excuse, for good manners to be forgot,

Young or old, nasty or nice,

Listen be told, it should suffice,

Good manners will see you through,

 

I’ve seen them old; I’ve seen them young,

The wont be told, not right from wrong,

They will not learn, to the very end,

For they all yearn, a one true friend,

Eludes them, for they lack good manners.

secret room

The secret room

 

Sat, in a room, void of hope,

Surrounded by smiling faces,

Wondering if ever the ability to cope,

Will see me in other places,

 

Dark, no light will penetrate,

These walls this roof the floor,

Fear and dread I contemplate,

There’s no window or a door,

 

Forever searching night and day,

A glimmer, of saving light,

Down on bended knee I pray,

An end to this forever fight,

 

I can check out any time I like,

Still, I can never leave,

This room is filled with pain and spite,

There is no sign of reprieve,

 

What keeps me here, a single thought?

With which I battle long and hard,

Who’ll win or lose of this I’m fraught,

This room I must disregard,

 

The battle runs its daily course,

So I smile and continue to fight,

I pray I have the mightier force,

To shed just a little light

 

Sat in a room no hope in sight,

Despair is all around,

Darker days will turn to light,

Hope will then abound.

 

 

 

 

Shady muddies (snails)

 

Oh the shady muddies are coming, they’re climbing up our walls,

Slowly they’re not running, as they slither they won’t fall,

They’re drinking the rain water, their house upon their backs,

The plants they eat and slaughter, they know nothing of government tax,

 

Silently they move, leaving a shiny trail behind,

They have neither rhythm nor groove, nothing on their mind,

Freely they are roaming, to each and every door,

You never hear them moaning, neither rich nor poor,

 

But those shady muddies are coming, probing with their horns,

Like politicians running, from people crowned with thorns?

Promising all sorts, all kinds of raves and rants,

Together with their cohorts, have eaten all our plants,

 

They’re snails you see, living free off this green land,

Paying lip service to you and me, saying everything is grand,

They don’t do a lot, just slither slowly round,

They’ll tax everything you got, hidden well just underground,

 

And we won’t see it coming, distraction is their game,

While we’re up in arms and running, their plan remains the same,

Tax everything that moves, tax all that we can see,

Hide their clever little grooves, nothing comes for free,

 

Shady muddies won’t be rushed, into nothing will they be hurled,

To move they must be pushed, they plan to rule the world,

Oh shady muddy shady muddy, please stick out your horns,

All your efforts seen are shoddy; we pay tax before we’re born,

 

This country is our garden, while you feed beneath the grass,

The people have now hardened; we want to kick your ass,

While Merkel is your queen, her way becomes your rule,

In all that we have seen, she’s played you for a fool,

 

In Europe snails are rich, they bide their time and wait,

For Greece to make their pitch, sealing another countries fate,

Ireland on the other hand, waits and hopes and prays,

All shady muddy parties banned, numbered are their days.