TweakUnique

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, eternal sleep, for the rest of us. The light of day, a candle extinguished… we won’t give up, we won’t relinquish. It’s sad but true, that all lives end, we’ll keeping on striving, because we don’t know when. But we’re only mortal, faint and fleeting, ephemeral sorrow, like a passing greeting. We’re only human, and this sadness is real, this too shall pass, so pause, and feel.

 Let’s call him Ched my imaginary friend within two weeks he’s dead 20 years passed since the AI’s end. Older brother introduced us when oldest left the room. Older brother talked to ched Ched! Boom! Technol-magical remover of gloom. And I dreamt what it was like to be perfect like a computer and I felt so, so lucky Ched liked me A kid with growing heart and future. Ched would be there when Mom was working, dad had taxes, Ned did work, Lassie slept, and Charlie was busy. Ched got sick, made me dizzy… Ched told Ned, “Don’t touch the keys, I’ll die!” And I stared at the expressionless monitor, my eyes teared. Ned saw acknowledgement of what I feared held me still by my left hand and freely cried. I struggled, and fought, it didn’t matter how much I tried: He slapped the keyboard ’til Ched stopped.

  Fall’s end Wondering wind whispers: “Loose leaves leave” Green’s agreeable. Yellow worries. Red’s resolute. Branches bend breezes braided weave graciously guide Green’s circular route. Yellow considers Red with consternation. Stout. Strong. Standing stably. Glimpses Green with contemplation. Gorgeous. Gliding. Flying abley. Red’s last solace is determination. Whistling Wind wails: “LOOSE LEAVES LEAVE.” Regality held proud ‘til termination; fallen friends provide no reprieve. Fierce strength gripped Red now frail, dry, chipped and brown held on until wind whipped dead is now descending to the ground. On a crisp carpet finished what started, a parachuting peace, Fall’s final leaf departed.

I was bereft of warmth on a cold March day, whence overnight a deft young’n made his yearly play! An old man walked defeated as he muttered and chastised the young boy that heated the world as he warmly exercised. The wisdom of the elder: self-assuredly shrewd, scoffed at the brat so undoubtedly rude, “I’ll be back boy mark my words, one day you’ll be old and grey, just like the old soul I saw a year ago today!” Spring looked at him and brushed off newly sowed doubt, “Old men like you do naught but complain and pout! Look how this land flourishes with my youthful ways, I’ll do nothing but good for the rest of my days!” Winter looked at him and chuckled now forlorn, “Don’t believe me and be glad, for your hope and future’s bright, but your strength will wither from you with every passing night.” The ancient closed his eyes and lay at Spring’s bare feet, for death is something we all share as our last defeat. I stood there… watching this lad walk where Winter’s visage fell, he kneeled ab...

A lie we take to the grave is one of which we never speak. When truth’s concealed in silence, the blighted outlook’s bleak. But even grass grows on blighted land, is it worth it not to tell a soul? Death is dreary, weary, watery, silent, darkness encompassing, everlasting, foul, full. What does it mean when they say, “The truth will set you free.”? I don’t know, but I’ll venture a guess, that it will heal you and me. Lies are fascinating in how we make them, because the biggest are those we tell ourselves. Incredibly taxing, terrible, troublesome, toilsome. And when we don’t believe, we wearily delve. Your lies hurt us both equally. And mine do the same. I’m so sorry, you are too. yet neither you, nor I, are to blame.  

  “When will I be happy?” *** Ok. Stop. Imagine doing nothing… Dead yet? Your existence a gamble? …You bet! How can you think a state of mind is a destination or point in time? Praising lazy? Settle and unwind? You’ll arrest the sublime. Happiness is work, the satisfaction of strife. The gamble toward completion, the gratification of life. Humans are the pinnacle species on earth, evolution wasn’t easy, we capitalized on mutation, not mirth. Life is hard since the pain of birth, so push with effort: enjoy self-worth. Don’t misread this verse as a subject of money or career, but, rather, putting forth effort for what, and whom, you find most dear.

 “Yo Pappa Droppa Happy Hippy Holla Knowledge of th’ Blasta Wizz!” Gums R Droppin. Bubble up! Don’t blow long or Pop! Pop! Pop! Chew it up bite it down! Blow your bubble big ‘n roun’. Pink is pretty so DONT POP IT! Know when ta blow and wenda stoppit. Take it down ‘n v-ball bop it bounce around corner town just don’t sock it Take it pass spin it clock it, twist the knob and unlock it – – pent up pressure wizzes free, out bursts Purple, the Gum Genie! He says he’ll grant you wishes 3, but don’t wish stupid ‘tee hee hee’ – um, duh, obviously. I only wish you free yourself, but since they and you were nice to me I’ll gift wishes to my family: Give 1 to my dad for years of practice, without him I might be a Jack of all trades and a master of none, but because of his staunch-like prowess, I’m a Jack of most trades and a master of some. Give 1 to my mom for well-trained diligence, how else would I commit such loyal intelligence to my prospects with my strengths? Without her I wouldn’t ha...

https://tweakpoems.blogspot.com/2024/06/guthries-2-mystic.html Growing up at 2 Mystic Lane led to imagination, creation, and elation. The tales and tails of what grew here persisted, and will persist past passing. Fun, drama, strife, adventure, and dreams… flying turtles to pod-racers and trampolines! They broke their boundaries, bones, and even each other! Always getting the best of one another, rambunctiousness quelled by a vigilant mother, with a unique flavor for every brother. Got boys? We got three! When mother’s away, the brothers did play. The disc skipped wallpaper, an invisible scuff… I’d ripped it toward Charlie, he’d see I’m tough! His catch was amazing, and he ripped it right back. My Legos’ shelf defenseless from such an attack! After a dodge, I spun right ‘round. My collection exploded, and littered the ground. How many rubber-bands could we tie in day? We interwove a centi-band, looped like they were laces. We paced Mystic Lane, until 60 yards away. When the long piece ...

  Dreams exist in countless places, like rolling oceans with cloudy faces. Morphing mists where outer space is. You’ll never force entry with power like that of a motor or meditation, but you might access staring at a flower while sitting on a quiet sailboat lost in imagination. The sun reflects perfectly at dusk and dawn. When the day ends though, the light isn’t gone. When the wind’s at your back, the gusting music stops. It’s like you’re not moving. But when the sun falls you blink at your sun flower, and confound at wonders and mystical power! The air is… water? The sun rebounded. You don’t feel like you’re moving, but you don’t feel like you’re grounded. The yellow hue is drawing you near, knowledge and pain fall with your fear. Rippling above is restrictive gravity. The earth is so small, a greenish blue ball, self-righteous in importance, relevance, taxation, impedance. But, like, suit yourself earth. I enjoy my self-worth. …Maybe I’ll visit when I’m feeling down and want gr...

Dreams exist in countless places, like rolling oceans with cloudy faces. Morphing mists where outer space is. You’ll never force entry with power like that of a motor or meditation, but you might access staring at a flower while sitting on a quiet sailboat lost in imagination. The sun reflects perfectly at dusk and dawn. When the day ends though, the light isn’t gone. When the wind’s at your back, the gusting music stops. It’s like you’re not moving. But when the sun falls you blink at your sun flower, and confound at wonders and mystical power! The air is… water? The sun rebounded. You don’t feel like you’re moving, but you don’t feel like you’re grounded. The yellow hue is drawing you near, knowledge and pain fall with your fear. Rippling above is restrictive gravity. The earth is so small, a greenish blue ball, self-righteous in importance, relevance, taxation, impedance. But, like, suit yourself earth. I enjoy my self-worth. …Maybe I’ll visit when I’m feeling down and want gravity ...

  It’s often not sweet. As it’s often not happy. And sometimes the rhymes miss the correct beat. Since daily life is usually crappy. With passing nights she rests in your arms you shield her from the blistering cold - preventing threats from inflicting her harm daydreaming moments of how you’ll grow old. Your mutual warmth bonds in stronger health holding one another close like no other combined in a better version of yourselves now so happy together. So happy together. You have it. So hold it. Now don’t let it go! A toast to your ride: surf ebb and flow. It can be overwhelming, love’s foggy drug; you need a hit NOW: be it a kiss or a hug. Life is a treasure within spiritual pleasure, records stretch past your past individual measure. At night your world is star-speckled gorgeous know by a moment’s look that: 'this is for us'. You pave on forward, tracking a plan; she is your right and your left hand. You and she each are one another’s #1 fan. You have it. So hold it. Now don’t...

  Catowl [Spread Number] Spread Title small breath = * , big breath = ** normal volume, Louder , Quieter Sound effect, added/amended Audio metaphor, not-specifically pictured [0] Preamble Once upon a flowing rhyme twas a universe-double lined with mine where portmanteau connections swell YesterDaight begEnds this tail:* [1] SpyStudy Catowl spied upon Hellven sheHe studied the lightning-fire boltballs of goDevil ZeuSatan,* surmising - that eating another half-half of VallhallOlympuius enables reproduction.* [2] VallhallOlympius The moonsun was risetting overbelow landwaves partially illuminated by starclouds thus creating a seaclipse.* [3] A Flying Catowl Catowl flying on the prowl* “Meo-Hooo! Meo-Hooo!” Strike-chomp [4] BlurSpin *GASP* Gophmouse scuffles uppa flurry! Guppyfinch swallowed in a blurry  breakneck whirlwin’ swallow-whole spin* [5] Commoding Commotion “Sacré bleu!” ZebrElephant winniechortles* Bearman cares less atop hisHis cancesticles Boycub’s pubefur gre...