Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 69

Pursuit of Happiness

It's not so elusive; not sohard to find;

It's all around every day

There for the taking...

A well never emptied. Nomatter how much

Is drawn from its reservoir

There's always more.

It rains from the sky...

Rides on the wind.

Its comfort is like the

Embrace of a friend.

A tickle, a tingle,

A twinkling eye,

Smiles on the faces ofpassers-by.

And though the World may behumbled and hard,

Days may be long and travaildeep and dense,

The Happiness waits with thepatience of Saints

At the end of the journey tohelp us make sense

Of a life that is otherwise

Filled with remorse...

It's in the pursuit

That we find our true course.

 

Nasty Boys

Men are pigs!  Face it. It's true.

Nasty little boys whose mindsnever grew

Past their genital area,never matured

To emotional freedom, alwayssubdued

By an ego inflated withmasculine pride

As to fashion itself to becocky and rude.

Picking to pieces the fairersex.

So unaware of the harmfuleffects,

So uncaring, soinconsiderate,

Like a child growing olderilliterate,

Stumbling in darkness,direction askew,

Seeking to remedy hissolitude.

Never aware of his needycondition,

Sowing his oats with no needto be coy,

Finding too late that his cupis half-empty.

It's time for you to grow up,

Nasty boy.

 

Lies In Your Eyes

There are secrets that wekeep

Beneath the surface dark anddeep,

Cloaked in shadows creeping

Through a labyrinth of hiddensins.

Breaking all the rules ofcustom,

Shaking the forbidden tree

To savor the fruits not meantto taste,

To see the sights not meantto see.

 

... And you have come to tellme

That your faithfulness isstill in tact;

That you wade in fidelity;that

I should see your heart istrue;

That I must keep you in my trust

And that you lust for no oneelse;

That history should be myguide

And blind faith keep me closeto you.

 

... But no matter how youstruggle to

Manipulate and vocalize,

There's no way you can deny

The lies that I find in youreyes.

 

Patriot's Revenge

Marching steadfast throughthe rain

To points ahead as yet unknown,

Knowing only when the trek isfinished

Will the point be made,

The enemy confronted and

The final debt be paid

To obliterate and liberate

The high and mighty fromtheir throne.

 

He was but a simple man

Meant to live a simple life,

Wishing harm to no one,

Professing peace, lamentinglove,

'Til grave obsession played itshand

Sweeping down from high above

Enslaving those of unlikevalue,

Saddling their hearts withstrife.

 

Now the husk is off the corn;

The closed door taken off thehinge.

The patriot is primed and ready

For his taste of sweetrevenge.

 

Running From the Back of the Pack

I can see the leaders upahead;

So confident, not lookingback,

So self-assured, soself-absorbed,

Not considering the lowlypack.

 

They seem to run soeffortlessly

With posture not unlike

A standing portrait, straightand true

With eyes fixed in a stoicgaze,

The rising, falling movementof

Their heaving chest atestament

To patient training of theirskill,

To calm resolve andconfidence.

 

Their demeanor serves themwell,

But I have one advantagehere.

I can watch their everymovement

From my trailing vantagepoint.

 

So, I will let them set thepace

As I wait patiently behind

And we'll just see whohappens to be

First to cross the finishline.

 

In Other Words

I hate when someone says tome,

"In other words, whatyou're saying is..."

What I'm saying is just whatI said.

What part did you notunderstand?

Was I not clear?

Did you not hear?

...My words not make it toyour ear?

Or were you just distracted by

The simple gestures of myhands?

 

People hear what they want tohear...

What suits their purpose atthe time,

And though your words may becrystal clear,

The buzzer stuck inside theirhead

Distorts and blocks,manipulates

And turns around your meaning'til

It suits a purpose quiteunlike

What you originally had said.

 

And so you hear," Inother words..."

And you just want to screamand shout,

Or worse, to take them by theneck and

Squeeze until their lightsare out.

 

Rest in Peace

You were quite the Dapper Dan

In your own way; in your ownday

You kissed the girls. Youmade some cry,

Then kissed the teardropsfrom their eyes.

You made sweet love, thensaid, 'Goodbye.'

You didn't know what else tosay.

 

Tiny points of starlighttwinkled

From the corners of yoursmile, and

Laughter was a specialty that

Seemed to spread contagiously

To fill whatever room youmight be

Occupying for a while.

 

People loved to be aroundyou,

Loved to share your point ofview,

The sure quick-witted sharpretorts

That bound back smartly,clean and short,

A rubber ball bounced off acourt,

Like arrows flying straightand true.

 

Now you're silent, dearestfriend.

Someday soon we'll meetagain.

 

Cannibals

The drums... The distantdrumming

Is foreboding Evil's eminent

Approach as I lay sleepless

On a breathing jungle floor,

Knowing when the drummingstops

The silence soon will issueforth

It's summons and the chasebegins

As I seek sanctuary's door.

 

Heading deep into theunderbrush

I seek a hiding place,

Praying to avoid the commonpredators

Of lower cunning;

Knowing my true enemy is oneof like flesh,

Closing fast.

I cover tracks as best I can

And task my weary legs keeprunning.

 

Faith is shaken, and all calm

Is turned to fitful flightsof fright.

Satan must protect thesecannibals

Who stalk the restless night.

 

The Best of the Worst

Not everyone can be a winner.

Someone has to finish last

In races run, in battles wonand lost

Before the home crowd stands.

Beaten and demoralized,

The hurt reflected in hiseyes

Contrasts the winner's open sighs

Who realizes all his plans.

 

Consolation offers littlecomfort

To the heavy heart

That Glory's torch eludes

And passes shameless toanother's hand.

And although given credit

For a valiant effort on theway,

Deep inside the mind issaddled

With a cross; a loser'sbrand.

 

Not to quibble, not to wallow

In the mire of pity's sand;

Though I may not be thewinner,

I will be the best I can.

 

Save a Penny / Save a Buck

You can't find a single thing

That costs a penny anymore,

But loose change thrown intoa jar

Can yield a bounty in due course,

And it's easier to let it sit

And keep its brothers company

Than to haul around in purseor pocket

Like the burden of a horse.

 

Some may think the mundanetask

Of rolling pennies far tootrite

To be concerned or botheredby

The burden of collecting them.

And these shortsighted peoplewill

One day retire to poverty

And wonder why the world hasnot

Been kinder as their candlesdim.

The better off are better off

Not by chance and not byluck.

They learned their lessonearly on...

Save a penny... Save a buck.