I avoided saints
to keep life free of constraints.
Look! Now it’s all feints.
I’ve lost all taste for life
I’m all complaints
by Joni Mitchell from The Sire of Sorrow (Job’s Sad Song) in “Joni Mitchell: The Complete Poems and Lyrics”, Random House of Canada, 1997. 321pp.
Isn’t stress a lovely shallow dive?
Everyone sees anew, it’s said.
That helps us strive to survive
instead of rolling over to play dead.
Share the laughter now!
You’re too dry mouth in an urn
so take chances now.
Nothing will keep me
as you can so see
from my great duty
or bad poetry
will meet in public, share a drink and annex
talk with punctuated pointings of their specs
the conversation may be staid or complex
there may even be snarls, snags, barbs, bumps that vex
but between them lies ties and goals: no vortex.
Emotions range, some needing many kleenex.
No matter what the world throws them to perplex
they work at it and it’s good soon or in weeks.
How does marriage of individuals flex
so that they don’t fly off as separate ex?
As specified, they work! There’s no love codex
to multiplex the simplex to high apex.
No snake oil from some slick slimeball guy named Tex.
Nothing majestical or magicky from Rex.
No uniting you with rings by pontifex.
Love is work, believe it. Don’t trust a telex.
If you learn to love studious
then time will not pass tedious.
Your lore will grow compendious
and instinct from the dubious
will avoid work invidious
and make your voice melodious.
But don’t stop from laborious
effort or friends hilarious
nor events so injurious
as to rain down tears bounteous
for such is life salubrious.
Forge on, on through extraneous
and your reward is glorious.
Bouts of Beauty harmonious!
All points coverage
gets expensive as you age:
against death try rage.
hell and heaven not
for procrastination now
deal with them on earth
Forging I alive
is now invigorated.
Life is too short—for—
However headaches hurt
or can debilitate life
it’s all in your head.