Poems

It's all okay and everything does matter

life's a tea party, I'm the cinnamon buns

I see triple rainbows on hopeful horizon

red, purple, green, my happy joys of love

Poems are my means of making

earthy, Homo-sapient ecstasies

The more I write the less I need

while unitedly taking more love

Ernest using a shotgun

ending his misery at 61

my poems are sad truth

Bards hath spoke it best

we're each and everyone

of destiny's insignificant

True, in the grand scheme

death's failure and so am I 

False, I'm still in my hopes

a transcendence of besting

Your cup's gone half empty

you've abandoned the fight 

you're embracing negatives

you've lost your high hopes

Your undoing's bad scrutiny

you've forgotten love's blind

you're looking at pessimism

you've elected intent to quit

Naught I'll catch resentment 

in my bristly boar haired ego

whatever's flowing positively

well ergo there's where I'll go

Since attitude's my latitude,

I'll be turning another cheek

I'm unconditional affections,

tendered now in tragic Greek

I'll make a promise

I'll tell you truthful

I won't conjure this:

We can't pen poems

after we're deceased

When feeling old and fractured,

as my psyche stumbles and falls

I eye inspiration 'pon cheerfully,

beseeching those forsaken walls

Mind ill within nothing matters,

all nonplus and everything's bad

I look for ends of enlightenment,

remembering the love, I still have

I'm giddy in my gullet, yes back there I've lost my mind

yet still I'm Homo-sapiens of the especial Earthly kinds

I'm gifted innate ability, can linguistically transfer pens

here now rhyming expertly, who what where and when!

Dear Hello, how're you?

Hope all's acutely swell!

What new that thee do? 

Write here now and tell!

My life energy's a poetry depot

first warehoused by the Greeks

as they invented our biological

linguistic brained word miracle