And the skyโ€™ll be vanilla, and thereโ€™s-no-room to-be-bored๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜†

โ€œWHEN ITโ€™S TOO MUCH TO BEAR!โ€ a poem. Monday – 25 June 2018

When thingsโ€™re too hard and thingsโ€™re too bad,

What can you do with all of THAT SAD?


And pray for quick death,

From a God-you-donโ€™t-believe-in,

Or you can shoot up some โ€œmeth,โ€

Or take-cocaine – or-some-pot – or a bourbon-and-lime,

And go to The Bar – and tip Jeff a dime,

Or seek out some comfort – from โ€œthe gals in The Street,โ€

Who may be infected from their nose to their feet!


And shield your house –

From fresh air and light!?

And get real pale? Watch lots of TV?

Maybe-glance-at-a-book, or read poetry by ME?

What-cha gonna do? When youโ€™re nowhere in sight?

And youโ€™ve lost-the-will-to-live: NO SENSES; NO MIGHT!

Well, I have-got an idea! (pause)

Letโ€™s turn up the cooler – and climb into bed,

And kiss there and cuddle, until weโ€™re both dead,

OR – maybe – in-our-state-of-lonesome-and-dread,

Weโ€™ll sing โ€œa new song,โ€ and weโ€™ll peek out our head,

And all-thingsโ€™ll-be-different! NO MORE THREATS, DRUGS & LORDS!

Just SMILING FRIENDS, whoโ€™ve taken their swords,

And their wisdom and wiles, theyโ€™ve traded for dirt,

Sex toys and sun dials – and you can-not-be-hurt,

And the skyโ€™ll be vanilla, and thereโ€™s-no-room to-be-bored,

And our eyes are like childrenโ€™s, and all worries have โ€œshored,โ€

On a far-distant island, in a make believe ocean,

And our mantraโ€™s โ€œSHALOM,โ€ with much honey and lotion!!

Well, IF you can conceive IT, itโ€™s already here,

Nothing to fret about; nothing to fear,

Just holding hands, on a beach, with The Sun,

And Iโ€™ll kiss your sweet lips,

For OUR POEM, It is done! ๐Ÿ™‚ – AND – just begun!!

fin. <3