poetry, Uncategorized

Dream Reality

Dream Reality
Billy, You can be anything you want to be.

 

Don’t be a silly Billy, Grow up! Without money you can never be free.
A politician, a lawyer, a teacher, a ballerina – your imagination is the key. Can you afford it? You cannot leave the hood. Since you’re in, to leave there will be a fee.
Education is the key- the key to success. You’re a mess

My name is Dream. My name is Reality.
I give you hope, I inspire. I tell it like it is. I leave you in despair.
I am a shining star of the future to come for all. I am a deep dark void causing giants to fall.
I get glory from any small achievement. I get glory from making you sorry for any disappointment.
My goal is to get your soul.
With it, I will change lives. With it, I will craft deadly knives.
With your hands we will heal, nurture and nurse. With your hands, we will seal with blood, a dark future, life without good verse.
I am nothing without you effort, without your desire, without your passion.
You Dream to forget Reality. With Reality you cannot Dream.
I cannot exist without Reality. I am of no use without a Dream.
We are one. Two sides of the same coin. The ying and the yang.
A dream fuels you to create a better reality. A reality fuels you to dream a bigger dream.
I cannot exist without you.

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advice, Uncategorized

The Seven Deadly B’s

So the story goes.  Once  upon a time ( time, time, time), there was this girl . She went by the name Milly. So Milly grew up like all other little girls – laughing, playing with pink dolls who wore pink clothes and drank from little pink tea cups. She wore her hair in pigtails, sometimes she wore it down and, of course like every little girl she sometimes hated having her mom do her hair everyday, so sometimes she got it braided. If you looked at her, smiling in her white knee length socks that teased her frilly dress, you would assume she would have boy trouble one day – all the pretty girls always do. And that’s where you would be wrong. For in the woods, deep deep down, past the cabin, in her bedroom ever morning her mother would say before she left for school,

“Books Before Boys Because Boys Bring Babies”.

To which she would always smile sweetly and say,

” Yes, Ma’am ( she was a polite little girl), I won’t forget the seven B’s” .

She’d hurry to school before her mum began her stories of ” back in the day”.

But that is not where the story ends, for there is more. T’is the girl grows up. All the way to about eighteen or nineteen moons in age. For now this girl, who had never had friends who were guys suddenly found herself in another world. The fairytale slowly disappeared like the mist after a hot shower. Her Knee socks became ankle socks which would never reach her knee-length school skirts. Although her pigtails were long forgotten the seven B’s persisted. This was now the real world and the seven B’s did not apply in the Real world. Thus after wagering and waring with her inner mom’s voice she was faced with one of realities evident truths.

” I CAN HAVE GUY FRIENDS” She almost couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t anyone told her this sooner?

Image result for books before boys because boys bring babies

poem, poetry, rhyme, Uncategorized

A Beauty Certificate – Expiry date

Entering the world she was stamped with a beauty certificate

The terms and conditions read

“To be happy there is no need to gesticulate,

But only to be well bred”.

 

Now breeding does not come easy

Especially to the pure

And not to be cheesy

But for beauty – there is no cure

 

She was taught to smile, to sit upright

To say please, to say thank you

To lie, only when it was right

And most of all – never to be true

 

Her life was a whirlwind

Of autographs and pictures and the perfect smile of a mime

While a calm river was her mind

Of mathematical equations, laws and theories of time

 

To utter intelligence was shunned

For most were fickle

And the idea of “Brains and Beauty” did not tickle

And more often than not, it left them stunned

 

She was no more than her mask

Not a degree to her name (her mother would have no such thing)

Now Her beauty is slowly fading

Glory days are waning as she wonders where next to bask

 

More make up

Cover up

But what will she do when the wrinkle says “ Time’s up”?

 

 

 

 

poetry, Uncategorized

Looking through a magnifying Glass

 

It may be an actual tragedy

Or just s small problem

Most of the time it’s a parody

When we tell them,

 

“You’re looking at it through a MAgnifiying glass”

 

Now some may be guilty

For this they have done-

Taken pity

On themselves instead of having fun

 

“You’re looking at it through a MAgnifiying glass”

 

Time will come

When all we can do is watch

In clothes that match

Watch from the windowpane

In despair, in sorrow and in pain

For our bodies will not be worth much

 

“You’re looking at it through a MAgnifiying glass”

 

This time it will be too late

To lose the weight

Of the looking glass

That has become part of us.