A misfit in Liverpool
I think of oranges when I see a painting by Constable of a morning sun
that looked like blood orange dripping nectar down on some
fishermen trying to catch eels on the dark surface of the bay.
There were sail-ships too ready to hoist sail in the morning wind.
When I lived in England, I met several police constables, most
of them, nice blokes, but during the miners´ strike, they became
radicalized, they had a good talking to by those higher up and
were also promised plenty of overtime.
John, a police constable fifteen years on the beat and no promotion-
a friend of mine refused to partake in hitting miners over the head,
he continued his lonely beat, but at the station, he was ostracised,
a lonely figure in need of a friend- He often came into my cafe after
hours, we drank vodka with orange juice, lamenting the time we lived in. John took early retirement, and I sold my cafe.
Alone and Separated
Far from a Child’s touch
Divided in much
A bus with square wheels and not round
A Passenger train with no steam engine pull
A flying Eel
A rewrite Reel
All the above are Misfit toys
Needing the joy from every Girl and Boy
They are stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere
It’s up to Santa to bring the care
The Misfit Toys have nowhere to go
A change needs to be a flow
Misfit Toys cry out to the world they deserve a home
A place where a Child and Misfits can roam
Misfit toys must be seen from a different angle
It’s up to the child
Being enjoyment while
Misfit Toys for Christmas and any season
Imagine, a Misfit Toy hand held by a loving child
That is the true meaning of giving.
Marvelous ancient music box,
prim guitarist on pointe shoes rocks;
A misfit figurine
not concerned how she’s seen;
Her erratic tempo is not Bach’s.
Candle wax drips calcified tears,
riptides of dreams burst boundaries;
Drops become circles never squares;
Out of the box locked in a freeze
with rough edges it aims to please;
There’s no hiding their benefit,
claws can rip apart arteries;
That’s the magick of a misfit.
I am a misfit -I stay in misfit
I am different from everyone else
It's a question of what you can do.
Well, I can work.
That's what I can do.
Yet, I can't be with people or be friendly.
I just don't have it within me.
That's why I'm outside.
For this, I remain on my hill, on my descent.
It's a crescent just for you and me.
Just think, it's a fact, and that's just the way it is.
Can we agree now that this 'it' has always been?
This way been it, and this way will be it.
The way in the future.
In the way of our kids.
Yes, I can work.
That's what I can do.
Everybody else knows how to play ball.
I've never learned how to play ball.
So the ball don't play me too.
Marvelous magic’s meant to be;
Melani, not melancholy;
Dark is not the madness in me;
Measured? maybe; Measured? maybe;
Mastered the macabre that’s within,
muted miles of emotion;
A myriad of feminine,
misfit maiden, misfit maiden.
Social Misfit Mr. Mollander McGumphry McGee
Took his hen for a walk down street seventy-three
Dancing beside him was a weird lunatic-like chickadee
I am glad we do not look that ridiculous said MM McGee
The hen kept her mouth shut, for she was brighter than he
Ridiculous is not the half of it she later told her sister Bree
No one else rides a hen down street seventy-three
We looked like two complete idiots, McGee and me.
Thunder god
Oh, thunder god might be the harbinger of an eddy,
He is a potent striker and a deity,
Yet his mind bores him with the power which is at the ready,
You may think he has a lot of power,
Though his dejection is that by a sneeze he may raze a tower,
He just wants to watch and smell a flower,
He is considered a monster and blight,
Sailors are scared of his thunder’s sight,
Little do they know he wants a buddy who can hold him tight,
He may be very potent and active,
I am afraid we are wrong as we see a different perspective,
He cries and causes storms because our views are radioactive,
He is humane and full of clemency,
Oh, brothers but his surly nature is the only thing we can see!
A world of complete turmoil knows no misfit to be a hero.
February 23, 2023
In all my life that I've existed you see,
I've never fit in anywhere, like it was meant to be.
IMA now up there in my older year's,
a misfitt that's been filled with laughter and so many tear's.
You may see me as a misfitt, a rebel, a lost cause, and that's fine I say,
cause I do tend to my own, as I make my own way.
With or without you I can go on in this world you see,
a misfitt, a rebel, an outcast, a blacksheep I be.
No matter what lable you or the world sticks to me.
Ima going to do everything that I can,
to raise me and my kind becoming a better man.
If you feel like the world has casted you out,
your a misfit, a blacksheep with outta doubt.
That's ok as long as you're making positive change's each day,
becoming the best of you in every way..
Labels are for those who believe and think only of their self it's true,
be ye humble, let it be other's that raises you.
Keep your head above the waters, your heart over the thought's of the mind,
being a misfit, a rebel, an outcast is still life you will find..
we are a misfit
for we live internally
even friends cannot relate
to musings we express
and the way we feel
we walk alone
from idle banter
we read the unsaid
and outpour out healing love
we wish fellow souls well
more so adversaries
we walk alone
bliss energised form
magnetic thunder within
feeling God's breath enlivening
head-heart-soul aligned
divine flame burns
we walk alone
12-January-2023
For a security slot, A Sluggard,
For a praised company, rather haggard:
From long unemployment a drunkard,
Full tankard draining after full tankard.
Also, a listener at nights to Bard
And could Security suspend for Card,
Still, hopefully, he seeks to be her guard:
In many circles this fulfilling dream bared,
Most likely to collapse, if he is barred…
But a company won’t have things snapping
Through a guard sure to be caught just napping!
ARE YOU A MISFIT?
Per chance, in this universe, you are one?
That feeling, somehow you were born in the wrong century. You might look at common
dress.
You see it as dull, sloppy and freaky.
And you want clothes gallant, elegant and
even a tad cheeky!
Or the sense that you are a lone driver, facing
four lanes of oncoming traffic!
You ponder, what have I done wrong and down comes the pain and unbearable panic.
You get invited to an elegant soirée?
There you are, chandeliers and escargot galore.
However, you are pitifully ignored,feeling like a worn out mat, lying dead at an abandoned cottage door.
Now, let’s look at the way people think.
You see them as horridly light to heavily stuck in their brains!
Poor suffering you! You suffer from the thought they want to drown you with rats in a drain.
You suffer grossly from I-itis!
It’s time to give to the world, as it has given so
much to you.
And realize, they are not perfect either...
Give those people more than a chance or two!
5-16-2022
I am nothing more than the misfit poet
Dimestore prophet
Fallen
Drunken
Lying naked in the alleyway of your heart
For you my world is bared for all to see
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