friendship

Squirrels Screaming in Spring

Folder: 
Tales Fom The Fur

Simple afternoons with you are freeing

Softly, quietly I look up to see two 

Squirrels screaming at me

The dichotomy between the serene breeze

And the tiny furry beasts puts a smile on my face

The worries of the world fade into Nothingness

The warm caress of the dying sun

Lifts today's burdens like an old friend with his hand held out

Seeking...Greeting

Lifting...Comforting

Am I the same as you?

We exist in this moment together

But who am I and who are you?

The wall comes crumbling down

I gasp... you turn your rosy cheeks to face me

We see eye to eye but through different lenses

My green to your brown

My chaos to your calm

Two sides of the same coin

And yet when I turn to face the trees

I see through the faded leaves and the bare bones of earthen bark

I see in the extended arms of the oak what I can't always see in myself: Hope

The screaming squirrels have given up

Sometimes I feel the same

The quiet returns

The light is receding 

I turn to you once more

I return to the here

I return to us and our small Haven; 

In the garden of two now silent Squirrels

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My stepdaughter was telling me about two squirrels that were making a fuss at her one day when she and a close friend were hanging out at a park near our home. It may not be a masterpiece poem but I was so inspired I had to put the images in my head to words. 

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The Half Story of Us

Folder: 
2020

Humans who tripped over each other on different days, deliberately with

A little chaos, are just tangled enough now, calling

Names as you walk in the door

Knowing, more now that you have put it in words, this is the one thing we’re all sure about. This is solid ground.

 

Another day brings another mountain but

Living and not living here, she is still ours, and more

Love comes from harder hours.

You see how pieces collide and make this better whole because I don’t want a story that hasn’t seen some shit.

 

Not enough just to talk, she travels

In between states before I can blink. Teaches us that ties are

Not just based on the memories, but based on the now.

All your enemies are our enemies.

 

Caught in our own

Hurricanes, it somehow gets easier to keep one foot on the ground when we come together. We are

Ready to go anywhere if you ask- he is driving and the stars are

Infinity, infinity and together a bigger slice of the world is ours. There is no

Shame in wanting to live more because they are living. That’s what I keep telling myself as

 

My heart is racing and I can barely hear

All the noise and quiet we make, the sounds that make me want to say

Yes, decide to trust whatever this is.

Almost like it is not a decision but a step that will lead to more.

 

Her eyes blazing, she launches into

Another monologue on something that matters- us, the patriarchy, the world.

Not needing to add, I listen. Sometimes I wish I could speak like that,

Nothing but fire and care, just a mind and a voice, leave the consequences behind. But for me this is the best way to say it, even if I can’t quite capture

All the things we say and don’t say. The night ends with us

Hanging on words we hope to remember tomorrow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 7/22/20

friends for a while (with German/Germanic, Indo-European roots, Sanskrit, Old French, an unknown origin, and Latin influence)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

friends for a while (with German/Germanic, Indo-European roots, Sanskrit, Old French, an unknown origin, and Latin influence)



the summer heat was

transforming, enveloping,

their truest nature

friends is friends, tells Cook

enemies unforgiving—








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 06.23.2023 (Notes/Comments Box inputs were reread and found misconstructed/misspelled/mistyped word "implieed")


I've simply supplanted the previous update/reedition for this reedited/reupdated version, below, with the enumerated grammatical/semantical corrections as follows:



1.  'impli*ed' (correction of a mistyped/typographical error)

2.  this... "*rough",  "edit*s"  (addition of a specific word 'rough' & omission of "s" in edits

3.  *and  (omission of "while" in " 'while', a while back,..' "  and  supersession of it)

4.  "...which I reedited '*after' finding out that" (replacement of "when" with "after")


(Note:  The unedited version was retained for comparison.)


I added the following words in the hashtags:  multiculturalism, ethnomethodology, cultural diversity, monoculture, cultural factor, cultural diversity, psychological state, heathen, group cohesion, social identity, social identity theory, ..around the same time while doing the subsequent editions; several minutes ago, while I was editing the poem itself, l've simply added a comma after the word "enveloping" when I noticed that it did not seem to be denoting my implied initial thoughts; still earlier on, I've also added the hashtags hubris, hubristic, & ego control just in order to correctly indicate its potential/implied themes and, a while back today, I also reedited the formatting & spacing of the whole content for readability due to the previous edition's unintentional italicization of the whole Author's Notes/Comments section which I reedited after finding out that it was ineffective possibly from processing errors (that specific instance was on 07.21.2020, & the discovery was today, as I actually do this rough edit, 07.25.2020).  Obviously, it is still italicized for the current moment, which I have tried to figure out why this happens; this particular poem was initially posted on 07.21.2020.



Reupdated on 07.25.2020

 



I added the following words in the hashtags:  multiculturalism, ethnomethodology, cultural diversity, monoculture, cultural factor, cultural diversity, psychological state, heathen, group cohesion, social identity, social identity theory, ..around the same time while doing the subsequent editions; several minutes ago, while I was editing the poem itself, l've simply added a comma after the word "enveloping" when I noticed that it did not seem to be denoting my implied initial thoughts; still earlier on, I've also added the hashtags hubris, hubristic, & ego control just in order to correctly indicate its potential/implied themes while, a while back today, I also reedited the formatting & spacing of the whole content for readability due to the previous edition's unintentional italicization of the whole Author's Notes/Comments section which I reedited when finding out that it was ineffective possibly from processing errors (that specific instance was on 07.21.2020, & the discovery was today, as I actually do this edits, 07.25.2020).  Obviously, it is still italicized for the current moment, which I have tried to figure out why this happens;  this particular poem was initially posted on 07.21.2020.

 

 

 

 

 

I've just recopied/added below some of the etymologies of the following (as per my gadget's built-in dictionary definitions):

 

 

 

 

friend

 

ORIGIN

 

Old English frēond, of Germanic origin; relating to Dutch vriend and German Freund, from an Indo-European root meaning 'to love,'  shared by FREE.

 

 

 

summer

 

ORIGIN

 

Middle English: from Old French somier 'packhorse', from late Latin sagmarius, from Greek sagma 'packsaddle'.

 

 

 

envelop

 

ORIGIN

 

late Middle English (formerly also as invelop(e) ): from Old French envoluper, from en- 'in' + a second element (also found in DEVELOP) of unknown origin.

 

 

 

nature

 

 

ORIGIN

 

Middle English (denoting the physical power of a person): from Old French, from Latin natura 'birth, nature, quality',  from nat- 'born', from the verb nasci.

 

 

 

enemy

 

ORIGIN

 

 

Middle English: from Old French enemi, from Latin inimicus, from in- 'not' + amicus 'friend'.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like fine wine

They say a woman is like a fine wine, she only gets better with the passing of time.
But you my lovely, are much better then that,
You have become so beautiful, I swear... that's a real fact.
 I'm not sure if I, can take much more... of all the women I've loved before...
You're still the one, I truly love and miss...
You'd be what I'd ask for, if I had just one real wish.
But alas, I couldnt get you to see...
You were truly happy, when you were with me!
But I'm happy, you're doing real good, and I'm glad, for the time we shared, doing what we could.
You truly are, still so beautiful to me...
And you have a special place in my heart, where my love for you will always be!!!

 

©PAUL (ChryWizard) Posney 03/29/2020

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Poisoned

Folder: 
Torn Love

I only want what I cant have,

Like Im hooked on poison,

Youre like a drug Im addicted to,

Your smell,

Your touch,

Your power over me,

Things haunt me,

Its all about us,

You know I can keep secrets,

I know you can keep secrets too,

They never said we cant touch,

Just how close can we get?

Will she ever know?

They dont know,

Hold on tight on this ride,

You traded things,

Is that what happiness feels like for you?

I know you enjoy the danger,

Maybe not as much as me,

That spark is there in your eyes when I look,

I think youre scared of how it feels,

You might enjoy it,

If you lose yourself in the pleasure,

How will you come back from it?

Why do I get the feeling youre craving something youve never had?

I never crossed the line,

If we even have a line,

Tell me something,

How far can I push you?

How close can we get before you run?

You look at me with those eyes,

Knowing the power they have over me,

Youre beautiful,

Youre completely enchanting,

Youre the source of my addiction,

Your eyes,

Your lips,

Your smell,

Your touch,

Your body against mine,

Your breath on my neck,

The feel of you against my lips,

The feel of you against my hands,

The feeling of you responding.

 

Im addicted to you like Ive been poisoned and youre the cure.

Pieces

Folder: 
Love

I think of you now and then,

Gravity pulls us together,

Thoughts of you,

Made from broken parts,

I look into your eyes,

Passion and love inside,

Scared to let it out,

Bruised and scarred,

Life can be cruel,

You dont have to hide,

The walls you have made,

Let me inside,

I can show you its not so bad,

Hold your heart gently in my hands,

Kiss it tenderly,

Never break it or hurt you,

I couldnt do that,

Not to you,

Things I can show you,

Love and understanding,

Its like you are here with me now,

Beside me on the bed,

Instead of just in my head.

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You Are What You Eat

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver and the other is gold.

These are the words that my guardian angel had taught me.

After I got food poisoning from a blighted potato he enjoys.

 

I never liked potatoes, but I love them warm and crispy.

Goes to show that even recipes that take minuscule effort like chips and fries requires passion.

I cannot possibly give the potato another chance, now knowing that the man is a liar.

It took me a long time to realize that only I can decide the food groups that are right for me.

 

We humans are a complicated lot to read and decipher.

So don’t you dare compare kinships to silver and gold

Because even platonic love is the furthest thing from flawless.

And so are the guardian angel’s mischievous, yet spoiled acquaintances.

 

Friendships are like food from a college dining hall.

What’s on the menu is only delicious if we follow the recipes and turn up the heat.

But we must get to the cafeteria on time and grab them while they’re hot

Because they don’t taste the same if we’re served whatever’s getting cold.

 

Why should I believe my guardian angel’s wisdom nowadays since he has become aloof himself?

Old eating habits apparently die hard, but the same diet he practices for years is still going strong.

I used to believe that he was stuck in the middle because his acquaintances are often at war.

Now I am grateful that some of the pressure has been taken off knowing that I can’t please everyone.

 

I’d be a hypocrite if I said I am immune to this gluttonous misfortune myself,

But it is important to remember that life-changing desserts don’t take one day to bake.

Real gold and glistening silver always takes time and effort for Mother Nature to perfect.

When the sweets come out fresh from the oven, I also shouldn’t bite off more than I can chew.

The Essence of My Thoughts

I don’t know you!

I don’t want to know you!

But I have to if I need to know why you loathe strangers like no tomorrow.

I’m a curious boy so I can’t stop poking my nose into the mess you made.

 

There’s a girl who lives in the British Isles.

She doesn’t know you!

You don’t want to know her!

Yet, you cut her open and call the cops on her so they can cure her wounds.

 

That is no accident. You fractured her soul on purpose and pretend it’s her fault.

Where is your humanity? Are you even human at all?

Who are you to call yourself an advocate for world peace?

So I say fuck your agenda. Your stupidity can't trick me into turning against the girl.

 

Just because the fire you started ain’t my business doesn’t mean I can’t chime in.

When a maiden as kind and sweet as she is in danger, it is everyone’s business.

Why do you claim to be in favor of equal rights when you have blood on your hands?

A good activist must always be a good pacifist. Never are their words used to perpetrate murder.

 

Who’s going to stand by you when the gravity of your actions come crashing down on you?

Who’s going to shelter you when the people you speak up for want nothing to do with you?

Who’s going to survive when your puppet shows concludes?

When you drop the mic that’s rigged with a bomb that blew up the city?

 

Look what you’ve done!! Look what you’ve done!! Look what you’ve done!!

You didn’t wake up to smell the roses that were painted by the blood spilt from your casualties.

The lone survivor is the girl who came close to death and there you are, continuing to break her.

You’d rather be comforted by your ego than brace yourself for the consequences of your miscalculation.

 

You don’t know the people you’re hurting as well as you think you do.

I pray now that the girl who survived the bombing buys an enchanted shield to keep you away from her.

My hypothesis is that nobody important in your life taught you that karma is a vindictive boomerang.

I’m not known for being a social butterfly, but I know an incredibly deadly viper when I see one.

Dangerous Territory

I’ve been swimming in the deep end lately.

My head is spinning in circles.

My heart had never been so hollow on the inside.

I need to catch my breath before I do anything else stupid.

 

My work of art is an escape from uniformity.

I felt safe with you for the time being.

At the end of the week, you cuddled me

When the sergeant had an off day at work and took it out on me.

 

I let you in like I did when I meet new people.

You were happy for me when I told you I finally found love.

I wanted nothing more than a friend’s reassurance that everything will be okay.

But you in particular were a land mine waiting to explode.

 

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

 

I can barely read script in Delphi without misinterpreting some if not most of its passages.

My art isn’t like what you’d expect to see in other do-it-yourself or high-profile projects.

The way I write, the way I archive, and the way I distribute information is my strongest suit.

There is no way I can fulfill my goal in life alone without the help of a team that knows its stuff.

 

You didn’t have to sugarcoat your advice to fix my problems

But you didn’t have to pull more than my teeth either.

You spoke to me as if I had to know every damn trick in the book.

You pointed out where I went wrong as if I didn’t already understand it.

 

I would have welcomed your advice if you watched your language.

I would have been more considerate if we joined forces as planned.

But being friendly with you in light of this is just out of question.

You can say that I’m high all you want, but it goes to show that you’re smaller than you think.

 

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

 

A vagabond told me this morning that I don’t learn much from success

And boy, I sure did learn a lot about your character more than what it takes to be top dog.

I might also let it slip that you exploded in my face because your little rant was all over the place.

In that case, riddle me this, who among the two of us really needs room for improvement?