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J Jay Samuel Davis

Wise Words From The Mystical Poet ~ Words of Wisdom

“EVERY POEM I DID READ.” a poem, re. Mystical Poems: Friday, 29 Nov. 2019

Every poem, it is a seed; so, every poem you read,

Is one you can “forget,” forever? for you never need,

To memorize or figure out the meaning of each line,

For interpretations are as the stars,

And none of them is mine.

THEY ARE ALL JUST OURS, our dreams, afloating in the sky,

Planted in the firmament of OUR PRECIOUS “BY & BY,”

For each sweet seed will plant ITSELF, and some day you might remember,

“Oh, THAT POEM, I remember it now; it was written in September,

And now it’s nearly April, and APRIL I RECALL,

The prettiest girl EVER at ThePoet’s Magical Ball.”

The seeds will sprout; (Gasp) You’veBeenInfected,

By reading THESE TERRIBLE THINGS,

The poems of everaftermore take growth then magic springs,

Into your “present awareness,”

And you go: “That poem [it] was a seed,

Of great and wondrous glory. It’s NOW just what I need,

For NOW I realize A meaning it tried? to teach,

Me back when I was not much ready.

Thank goodness, HeDidn’t ‘preach;’

Instead, THE MYSTIC POET let me “eat the germ,”

I was not even aware of it; I DIDN’T EVEN SQUIRM;

I [just] tasted that NEW flavor, unaware that one day soon,

I would recognize the seed,

As a flower from The Moon,

As a thing that blooms and points the way,

To an ever glorious, bright, new day,

Of change and easy re ve lry, Of LOVE for ALL of youANDme,

As US, and time has stopped right now, And its illusion shows me how,

To patient ly await The Time,

When HEAVENoffers another rhyme.

fin β™₯

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Categories
J Jay Samuel Davis

The Perfect Failure Equals Perfection 🀴

“THE FAILURE.” a poem November 29, 2019 (Friday)

I LOVE being a failure and being on “the short end of the stick;”

I like “missing out” and NOT getting even a lick;

I like lots o’ rejection mean looks and “He’sHopeless” sighs,

And I love NO ATTENTION from your gorgeous eyes.

I am never in “first place;” The LAST that’s for me,

The LOSER, NOT the winner is what I wanna be.

“You loser; you failure,” the men yell my way.

“I’m TheMysticALPoet , and I’ll fail ALL day.”

I fail to liveUp ToTheExpectations THEYall HOLD,

I fail to improve, and I fail to be bold,

I fail to get aHEAD, so I settle for a wing,

Or a leg or a prayer, and I fail to sing,

The song everyone WOULD HAVE congratulated me for,

Instead I sing “Join Me In Death.” The one all the Catholic girls abhor.

I fail to score; I fail to show;

I’ve failed in life; I fail to know,

Much of anything that IF I only knew (it) I’d be,

Happy and Satisfied and Fulfilled;

DID I LOSE MY KEY?

Where’s that key to SUCCESS? Was it lost at an early age?

So, I only push on the doors of my “chronic,” sad cage,

Captured FOREVER by the thought of your smile;

I REMEMBER WHEN YOU NEVER LOVED ME;

But I loved you all the while.

Too bad, a failure NO ONE SETTLES FOR,

Which means I’M UNIQUE. Wow. Now, The World’s at my door,

Knocking and screaming: “Please, let us in,”

Saying: “Your failure’s about winning. We were caught in the sin,

Of JUDGMENT about what’s winning and how to live life,

And YOU were accepting of YOUR FAILURE AND STRIFE.

PLEASE LET US IN. WE WILL SIT AT YOUR FEET,

Listening to your tales of grand failure,

And THE LEARNING YOU DID GREET.”

fin β™₯

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