Morning Poems

ISN'T IT

Isn’t it a pity

When you can’t see the beauty
And the pretty

Is around you everyday?

Isn’t it a shame

When there  is no one

Else to blame

The things since done

Isn’t it a joy
Go home with your ball

When you act the little boy
Mister Know it all

Isnt’ it a trap

This place you’re found in

What is sitting on your lap

Your self made jinn

Isn’t it the best

When you finally realize

This is the test
What’s in front of your eyes

It isn’t too late

To make the life you want

There is no fate

Don’t let them be a haunt

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The Joys of Noise

He finds it to be noise

It is only the joys

And squeals of girls and boys

As they pass on the street

In the early morning air

Why should he care

Their noise making

Inside his head

This poem is baking

To get inside and write it down

To do it now

Fast and HOW!

It struck him then

To understand

That being mad

About these things

Is wasted time

Wasted youth

Wasted life

Wasted breath and thought,  heat and seething

Wasted dreams never sprouting from seedling

Small ideas grow large

When they are in charge

Who’s the boss

You’re not the boss of me

The time is lost

In the future don’t let it be

Repeated like it was

Make this your noble cause

To live the life you want

For the days and years remaining

Any other way is just too draining

Tired of that path and way of thinking
So let them be a reminder

To not sit back and linger
The nauseating repeating of

The never followed mantra

Should shake you where you stand

And make you move ground

Earth, stone and sky

To LIVE

Today
Nothing more to say