Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

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

Schooled

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

~*~
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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.

~*~
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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.

~*~
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Crossroads

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?

~*~
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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.

~*~
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