Instead Of

Instead of scrolling through Indeed applying for positions

I think it may fit; I can sit here at my Mac and type words expressing how I feel about shit.

Words are bundling in my heart from visions of the past, present, future while the vision is obscuring from the greedy and ruthless.

Security eludes like my ancestors and creator. Left pondering, am I the child of Dark Vader?

Dating apps are entertaining and complicated; going through profiles of people seemingly half faded.

My daughter is a young woman experiencing adolescence, our relationship at times of that of an Alka Seltzer effervescent.

Honestly, writing is a thing of the heart, going back and forth wondering if they are together or falling apart.

Good music from a DJ can make the saddest of hearts. A cold beer is refreshing, accompanied by a shot.

Am I a writer, a poser, a lark? A lover of words, meaning with an arch?

Instead of scrolling through indeed seeking a new position,

I write words to teach my logical sign a lesson in inquisitions.

Of course, I must work. Of course, I need to be productive, but not at the expense of what naturally fills me with hope and passion, teaching lessons.

My cat is black and never experiences racism, but she is suspiciously a cause of superstition.

My allergies are terrible all closed up in this room; if I had wings, I'd fly far, far away as Shrek reluctantly did in the forced move.

No one knows another's thoughts or inklings, thank God, or we'd be a world of skeptics and weaklings longing for thick fog.

As time moves on, we seek what is good and best for us, consistently and diligently refusing to rust.

We waste time and energy on people, places, and things that mean no good, hoping that things will go accordingly, as they should.

Instead of singing lullabies of things gone wrong, one can stutter over the good moments that don't last long.

People cry over matters of things gone eschew

Disappointments and discouragement and the harm of the two

Incredible life, incredible death both are for a time, so best not to regret

for all this is nothing but sublime

Silly petty situations that mutter our stroll

When we should be like time and never fret not being in control

Time moves with no concern for the daily events, hours, minutes

seconds, it relents

Full speed ahead, those hips moving up and down, spinning as the

the world rolls round and round

We cry we anger, seeking solace in a bottle or a blunt

either way, the goal is to debunk

The lies, the reality, the emboldened truth that we are simply

adults attempting to relive our youth

The line we rushed through to achieve alleged freedom and respect

turned out to be a yoke around our necks

Now, responsibility is the crown weighing heavy on

shoulders wearing a grin camouflaged as a frown

our challenges and fears emboldened

Indeed we have been duped and played like a clown.

wondering why and woe is me, unconsciously dragging self-efficacy down

An evolving of sorts in the zeitgeist of this time

living through a pandemic desperately holding on to mind

Happy to be surviving on such uncertain days

contemplating the what if's as if a sort of haze

Leaving nothing to chance

tapping into positive energy as our core

Instead of diving negatively into wives' tales and folklore

Expectations are useless; according to Alexander Pope,

wasted on uncaring and insensitive folk.

Now I will end these words, but not the flow,

indeed life is a gift one cherishes by us poetic souls.