How Many Answers To The Same Questions?

In all that we know we will never know.
the ways of women are wild.
Piqueing at blunder, peeking at wonders
clear direction delicately certain
Ever beguiling without hardly trying
Never beguiled by blandishments mild.

Perplexed teachers reaching, preaching of knowledge,
knowing that few parents care;
the date and the time and place say it all,
for your name is yet inscribed upon the ultimate wall.

What you do speaks so loudly that no one can care
what you force us to hear; what you need to share.
What you do tells us, no need to remind us,
grinding a binding of how you might charm us.
Your actions can match the clash of your words,
where developing worlds get cursed for the worst.

The only thing written in the sands of time,
that climb higher than vanity's flightless harm,
is the still-growing knowing that the sun will rise,
that champions and leaders still rise and shine.
All that you say and all that you do,
too often are cancelled by neutral mistruths,

All that you wish enough to prove
are all we might want or can say of you.
All that you've done and all that you do,
will ripple or cripple long past your truths.

So nip at your stipple of bridling pride;
Make sure that your smile is timely and wide.
Set aside for the ride, or amidst, astride
blown by the winds of fortune and chance,
subject to the whims of those who wear pants.
or make it your life to ride into time.

For all that you've paid just to get to the door,
this is the day you draw to the fore.

Salt of the earth you may yet prove to be,
showing a glowing of coping and hoping.
Let the stars sparkle brighter, in colorful bursts,
opportunity offering so many new firsts.

Climb into time and take your place
into history's call for your pretty face.
You've got the voice of power to dare,
technology's power cannot make you care more.

Toying and ploying don't do the trick,
dollars and ballots are stronger than brick
Supplanting, digressing, choosing and losing
all of those moments are tools you're not using.
potency latent in the heat of your core.

You know what's wrong and you claim to be strong,
Heaven is moved when you decide on more.
Passion is power, invevitably more.
emotion your most potent key to the door.

Poem Intending A Bending of the Shortcuts Way of Living

Who's to say tomorrow won't outshine your yesterday?
Have you planted all you carry, nourished well along the way?
To each and fairly apportioned in the midst of strife and blame,
we'll see right quick how often you are up to the family name.
To each there is a meaning, annotated through the years,
matched by ambiguity, family secrets midst the tears.
No one's meant to know now, just how it came to be,
each one crafting versions of a sweet fine history.
Stay beyond the moment, dally only to unfold,
the secrets still untapped inside,
and all they come to hold.

No one's ever bothered, to take you by the hand,
leading you to greatness, as you should and could and can.
Grope for tethers borrowed from the coign of new tomorrows,
where the way to see it all transfigures now:
The illusions of a grander, revisioned history.
this is where you'll find the why and how.

Revise it as you can, defile and prise it out of hand,
the delusions wrapped in rictus, long past Heaven's magic wand.
Still and then enough to carry, all the good things meant for Man.
Build upon what's done is done,
who's to say that you won't be…
that very special One?

And we'll know what you can carry,
by whether or not you choose to tarry.
Pick and choose with passion and an eye for detail, too
soothe within those sorrows all the best that's bright and new.
For change is all that matters, step by step its creep shall come
transmogrify the darkness with your inner burning sun.
You are all the source we need, your energy serves as that basic seed.
For all the wild, intangible throes, thorns are matched in aromas of rose.
The black has white and down will up, so count again what's in your cup.
All those happy tears wrenched out, from the baldness of such sorrow?
Well, all those yesterdays are not worth one sweet tomorrow.
Take unto yourself what's yours, giving up what's not,
as tomorrow tucks its tiny hand into the palm of God.
Develop all your secrets, earn and do not borrow,
for those debts of yesterday
cannot yield unto tomorrow.

MisterShortcut