"It is what it is" was a saying that a mentor of mine just couldn't wrap his arms around. Being a Russian philosopher he would always give me the saying about the glass being half empty or half filled. I was suppose to accept that way of looking at a "black or white, left or right, has been always will be" kind of way of thinking. I found that I don't have to accept my station in life as a hopeless,helpless pathetic drunk. I learned that I can look at things differently. I found a softer easier way of looking at my life. I came to accept a new way of looking at my reality.
Here is my poem:
Acceptance
Neither is the glass
have empty nor half filled.
The water is exactly
what I have always willed.
Twice as big as needed
the outside is for me
Not pessimist nor optimist
but pure reality.
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Self Inflicted Wounds
I had a horrible habit of doing the worst thing at the worst time. I was my own worst enemy and thought I was so unique it this insanity. I was so mistaken.
Here is my poem:
Self Inflicted Wounds
The dog circles his tail in sickness,
returns to eat the vomit it just spat out.
Resultant to partial assimilation of prior acts,
sort of a body language umlaut.
Smoke the stick of cancer,
knowing full well the slow death that it brings.
Eat the salt, fat and sugar cane
to satisfy the uncontrollable cravings.
Living a battered existence,
humiliation day after day.
Returning to find knuckles so hard
once burlap now merely chambray.
Force the beer down to stop the shakes,
not wanting but having to.
Bloodshot eyes, hands tremble with sweat,
skin having the grayish hue.
Self inflicted wounds
there are so many
ways to suffer and die.
But like the dog
returns to the pile,
never knowing really quite why.
Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards
Here is my poem:
Self Inflicted Wounds
The dog circles his tail in sickness,
returns to eat the vomit it just spat out.
Resultant to partial assimilation of prior acts,
sort of a body language umlaut.
Smoke the stick of cancer,
knowing full well the slow death that it brings.
Eat the salt, fat and sugar cane
to satisfy the uncontrollable cravings.
Living a battered existence,
humiliation day after day.
Returning to find knuckles so hard
once burlap now merely chambray.
Force the beer down to stop the shakes,
not wanting but having to.
Bloodshot eyes, hands tremble with sweat,
skin having the grayish hue.
Self inflicted wounds
there are so many
ways to suffer and die.
But like the dog
returns to the pile,
never knowing really quite why.
Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards
Bartender, “Life” on the rocks, with a twist of fate.
Life on life's terms is must easier said than done. I do not let myself sit in my pity but every now and then I give it 2 minutes then I have to let it go. It shouldn't take 2 minutes to read this.
Here is my poem:
Bartender, “Life” on the rocks, with a twist of fate.
Hurt has two paths to follow,
“In” or “Out” of you.
Depending on its origin,
the how, the when, the who.
Can’t always see it coming,
by mistake or from a sin.
“Blindsided” is a sucker punch
when landed on the chin.
After years of living
I say the worst of all,
is when it comes from family,
to my knees it makes me crawl.
How can they treat me this like this?
To say to go away.
Love has left my families hearts,
my presence brings dismay.
When was the last time
you watched a grown man cry?
Come stand before me now today,
my heart just wants to die.
Never in my wildest dreams
I thought life would be so cruel.
Alone I stand in pools of tears
forced fed a bowl of gruel.
Life has a way of saying,
“This is a great impasse”
Blind faith is all I trust in,
a belief “This to shall pass.”
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
Here is my poem:
Bartender, “Life” on the rocks, with a twist of fate.
Hurt has two paths to follow,
“In” or “Out” of you.
Depending on its origin,
the how, the when, the who.
Can’t always see it coming,
by mistake or from a sin.
“Blindsided” is a sucker punch
when landed on the chin.
After years of living
I say the worst of all,
is when it comes from family,
to my knees it makes me crawl.
How can they treat me this like this?
To say to go away.
Love has left my families hearts,
my presence brings dismay.
When was the last time
you watched a grown man cry?
Come stand before me now today,
my heart just wants to die.
Never in my wildest dreams
I thought life would be so cruel.
Alone I stand in pools of tears
forced fed a bowl of gruel.
Life has a way of saying,
“This is a great impasse”
Blind faith is all I trust in,
a belief “This to shall pass.”
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
You don't know Jack
Back in my peaceful town of Sayville, I met a girl who thought she knew Jack. This is her story, Cheryl you don't know Jack.
Here is my poem:
You don’t know Jack
While strolling the hills of Scotland
with my old friend Johnnie Walker.
Was hard to get a word edge wise
cause Johnnie’s such a talker.
Someone arose mid conversation
I asked, “Do you know Jack”?
He shook his head and told me
to Canada I should go back.
The Canadian Club I did return
to find another caulker.
Though no relation to my friend Johnnie
his name was Hiram Walker.
Again I did address
explaining info I did lack.
“My friend Hiram, might you help me out?
Please tell me, do you know Jack “?
“Go east young man to New York,
a town called Sayville West.
There lives a girl who claims
that she knows Jack the best.
Girl’s name is Cheryl,
blonde and cute,
hung with him in her youth.
I heard it said
she tells the tales
though sometimes long in tooth.
Glory days, in bars round town
on stools or shooting pool.
The both of them were very close
she often played the fool.
Their paths did split,
to much of him,
she never did look back.
But I bet
you seek him out
you’ll find that one called Jack.”
Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards
Here is my poem:
You don’t know Jack
While strolling the hills of Scotland
with my old friend Johnnie Walker.
Was hard to get a word edge wise
cause Johnnie’s such a talker.
Someone arose mid conversation
I asked, “Do you know Jack”?
He shook his head and told me
to Canada I should go back.
The Canadian Club I did return
to find another caulker.
Though no relation to my friend Johnnie
his name was Hiram Walker.
Again I did address
explaining info I did lack.
“My friend Hiram, might you help me out?
Please tell me, do you know Jack “?
“Go east young man to New York,
a town called Sayville West.
There lives a girl who claims
that she knows Jack the best.
Girl’s name is Cheryl,
blonde and cute,
hung with him in her youth.
I heard it said
she tells the tales
though sometimes long in tooth.
Glory days, in bars round town
on stools or shooting pool.
The both of them were very close
she often played the fool.
Their paths did split,
to much of him,
she never did look back.
But I bet
you seek him out
you’ll find that one called Jack.”
Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards
Lover or Enemy
I had a lover, or so I thought, that would stand by me till the end of time. Came to find out that the end of time couldn't come soon enough for this mistress of mine.
Here is my poem:
Lover or Enemy
Watch it make sweet love to you,
doing what it wants to do.
Your spirit's gone, there's no free will,
liquid, powder or a pill.
A lover once, but long ago,
it’s now on permanent furlough.
Your need becomes a large strumae,
no longer friend, but enemy.
Copyright © 2009 Ronald J. Edwards
Here is my poem:
Lover or Enemy
Watch it make sweet love to you,
doing what it wants to do.
Your spirit's gone, there's no free will,
liquid, powder or a pill.
A lover once, but long ago,
it’s now on permanent furlough.
Your need becomes a large strumae,
no longer friend, but enemy.
Copyright © 2009 Ronald J. Edwards
I'll be waiting
I have a built in forgetter. It's the part of my mind that says "All is good, all is fixed, I am cured".
For me I have to remember that just around the next corner, not far away at all, at an arms length, there it is waiting just for me.
Here is my poem:
I’ll be waiting
Why did you go?
Where have you gone?
We use to be so close.
Side by side,
we’d pass the days,
driving round the boroughs.
Inseparable,
that was us,
together at each event.
Is there a bad taste
left in your mouth?
Did you leave me just for lent?
Doesn’t matter,
have your way,
I can be assuasive.
No grudge to hold,
you'll return,
can't always be evasive.
The day will come,
you’ll want me back,
the thought not much to think.
Come to me
down on your knees,
you’ll beg to take a drink.
A party yes,
a homecoming,
no guests, just you and me.
A cheap motel,
out in the woods,
behind a store or alley.
But till then
enjoy your time,
the image that you’re feigning.
Lurking in your memories,
its there
that I’ll be waiting.
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
For me I have to remember that just around the next corner, not far away at all, at an arms length, there it is waiting just for me.
Here is my poem:
I’ll be waiting
Why did you go?
Where have you gone?
We use to be so close.
Side by side,
we’d pass the days,
driving round the boroughs.
Inseparable,
that was us,
together at each event.
Is there a bad taste
left in your mouth?
Did you leave me just for lent?
Doesn’t matter,
have your way,
I can be assuasive.
No grudge to hold,
you'll return,
can't always be evasive.
The day will come,
you’ll want me back,
the thought not much to think.
Come to me
down on your knees,
you’ll beg to take a drink.
A party yes,
a homecoming,
no guests, just you and me.
A cheap motel,
out in the woods,
behind a store or alley.
But till then
enjoy your time,
the image that you’re feigning.
Lurking in your memories,
its there
that I’ll be waiting.
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
Needs and Wants
I like many people spent huge amounts of time chasing my "wants". Today I have gratitude in receiving what I need.
Here is my poem:
Needs and Wants
Have to get the needs,
life continues without wants.
Getting all the wants,
doesn’t cover all the needs.
Wanting the needs,
not needing wants.
Eating what is wanted,
not needing what is eaten.
Wanting to speak
when listening is needed.
The want to argue
when the need is to reason.
Wanting to strike out
when the need should be to hold.
Wanting all
from everyone
doesn’t alleviate the greed.
But getting things
from just a few
will satisfy the need.
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
Here is my poem:
Needs and Wants
Have to get the needs,
life continues without wants.
Getting all the wants,
doesn’t cover all the needs.
Wanting the needs,
not needing wants.
Eating what is wanted,
not needing what is eaten.
Wanting to speak
when listening is needed.
The want to argue
when the need is to reason.
Wanting to strike out
when the need should be to hold.
Wanting all
from everyone
doesn’t alleviate the greed.
But getting things
from just a few
will satisfy the need.
Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards
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