8/13/11

Intelligence often is questioned and  measured,

Deducing solutions for problems we face,

True genius, however, notes one aptly clever,

To bypass such matters before they take place.

8/12/11

A man was born to riches,

And draped in luxury,

The life of most men's wishes seemed his plain reality.

He held the finest objects,

His footsteps shone with gold,

All this, unless he should forget to do as he was told.

8/11/11

To manage matters was her goal,

No moment should be left unplanned,

Adherence to appointed roles,

And nothing falling out of hand.

Ideal minutia mastery,

With every detail kept but one:

Her aims were maintained flawlessly,

But not one single thing got done.

8/10/11

We alter how we do things when we get a better price.

A service change, a different name, a new brand or device.

Which makes me wonder if free will is what it seems to be,

Does choice decide our path in life, or just economy?

8/9/11

Customer Service, among truly worthless of concepts in all of humanity.
If something malfunctions, the user's assumption must be that it isn't as advertised.
And yet we're cajoled to spend hours on hold in the hopes of some magical remedy,
By someone who's trained, not to aid, but explain in new language why we are not satisfied.

8/8/11

A house is just a box we trust to thwart the elements,

To stall and stave as nature's rage assaults relentlessly,

And when the climate's brutal violence breaks this thin defense,

We stand perplexed by unexpected vulnerability.

The stalwart structures we erect are nothing to compare,

With ruthless storms, and all the forms they may precipitate,

All freeze and thaw, all natures laws, which we might find unfair,

Are but rejection of infections to eliminate.

We call it home, but all that's known and reasoned by this earth,

Are lifeless roots which shall pollute, and neither breed nor bud.

Our little box is just a pox, to seek out and reverse.

Thus shingles leak, foundations creak, paint peels, and basements flood.

8/7/11

Wandering, we while away the hours in the aisles,

Supermarket shopping on a Sunday afternoon,

Strange that such a mundane task elicits joyful smiles.

Could our paths recall perhaps those tread as bride and groom?

8/6/11

The rain pores down but does not break,

The heavy, languid heat of day,

Through lightning strikes and thunder shakes,

The torrents fall, but swelter stays.

Although our clothes are soaked and wet,

And tightly cling against our skin,

The atmosphere induces sweat,

And storms call neither cold nor wind.

Inclement weather which we dread,

May often clear to our surprise,

But not all clouds bear silver threads,
Not all dark days yield brighter skies.

8/5/11

Some times we strive and struggle to excel,

Some days we push to prosper and succeed,

When lesser effort serves us just as well,

And fate alone shall grant us all we need.

The buttons are depressed, the levers forced,

To work the great machinery of our lives,

We stand upon the helm to steer the course,

And foolishly believe it's us who drives.

8/4/11

Music is the sound we make from inside our own souls,

The little noise that scores each thought and feeling in our lives,

So when a song adorns the air, emotion is transposed,

In search of likewise melodies with which to harmonize.