Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

Life’s multiple choice
Our answers lessen with time
Questions grow harder


Fears prevail feared
Tomorrow’s today’s earned
All will rise, some learned

Chances Are

Life is bad when sad
Or grand when on clouds we stand
And glad for the hand


Art for Sight

Second guesses are twice wrong.
If you don’t like the music don’t write the song.
When a heart has a question the answer’s foregone.
A canvas stretched can’t mimic the dawn.
Too much thought can be a curse.
A little more can be a verse.
Half the time we’re half a sleep.
We feel safe in the dreams we peep.
100% per try comes once.
50/50 you’re a dunce.
Start from scratch, shoot for the moon.
You may miss but you’ll know soon.
Primal intuition on cave walls bear.
The futures instinct paints ones fear.


Passionate Passage

Just a little exercise to see what I do,
I’m going the bathroom to write about poo.
I’ve fluffy white paper that floats from the wall.
And a sink nearby, in case I fall.
In a window with shutters I control the scene.
But the stench still oozes in-between.
There’s a mirror that magically hangs above.
It’s never quite straight, much like love.
The image’s the same no matter the tilt.
It tells no lies or feels no guilt.
I’ll wipe the smudges, the exercise through.
I passed the test but slipped in do.



Maybe a message will set things right.
Or should I wait another night.
Maybe’s she’s waiting for my call.
A show of friendship could say it all.
I’d like to know how she’s feeling.
Maybe like me with a heart reeling.
Will there be anger, will we cry?
Will we laugh, will we lie?
Or will she say “Oh I’m feeling fine”.
Then I’d know she’s never to be mine.
Should I except loss to relive the pain?
Or make the call to break my heart again?


The Pits

Time ticks forward and pendulums swing.
Optimism’s great but doesn’t change a thing.
The future’s unknown, sleep’s for dreams.
Sometime clarity’s not what it seems.
Questions swirl in my tired head.
Respite unfound in my tousled bed.
Broken hearts we all have felt.
The gates of hell I have knelt.
My soul’s on fire, mind’s aflame.
Yet only I there is to blame.
Anger’s felt with nowhere to go.
My fists bleed my face does show.
Passion remains through good and bad.
Words arise, though sometime sad.