THOMas JEFFERson

Many are the words of a man

But only one actually matters most

Many are the ways of happiness

Yet no one actually gets them all

Pursue happiness and you can't get it at all

There is a newfoundland

But the ruler was tied by hand

This Kingdom made of fools

Who call themselves workers

Used by machines as tools

Called by the name brokers

A journey of thousand miles

Must not start with a hop

Joy not backed by smiles

Is like climbing stairs from the top

Pursuit of happiness is waste

So long as you change your taste

Go ask President Jefferson

Why he chose to teach that lesson

Had he not in America everything?

Why does he encourage nothing?

Everyone around seems searching

And no one is actually finding

Pursue happiness and never feel satisfied

Like busy bees, they move about in traffic

While I stand alone so terrific

Although almost all happy

It seems they still need money

Search for love and what you get isn't true

Just be sure that life doesn't misconstrue

Good messages are hard to come by

But the artist provides most for free

But since we don't observe as passers by

They're unnoticeable in our Gigo spree.

But one day

We shall stop paying the taxes

Quit running to the post boxes

No longer wear our tight suits

Wait not for the Friday bank alerts

From our crafts we'll become experts

We shall no more pursue

Yet find happiness even without a shoe.

YOUR own PEN

Something mostly divine, Sometimes, it's ours to define. Unlike the plant called Vine, Destiny seldom has pine. And it is our duty to prune and refine. From the feet till we see the spine. It may be a good omen, To which we shout Amen. It might have a fault to mend or dirt to filter, Which might make us think that God did falter. But we can write our own destiny. Yes, we always do. Remember that road you used to the mill, The particular person you talked to, Has it not been your own will? When you wanted to learn, Even when in prayer you did yearn, You took that training seriously, And you passed out successfully, That was your own destiny. That was your pen on paper. When you write, no one can alter. I am the secretary of the God you don't know. Now wait while I print yours out to show. Written down by you as white as snow.

HOT BALLS

Should little drops of water a lone be said to make up the ocean While rivers and rain help fill it to brim? When a man complains of hunger, Should he wait till a cropping season While he expects his wife to feed him? Would anyone sit on hot balls Without protection for his own balls? Hot rolled corn balls, Cooked and sold outside the mall Even though today's profit may stall, Vendor hopes to one day stand tall. And what sayeth the founders of wisdom When we ask for a life so wholesome? Patience is key they claim Followed by no pain no gain! But there's a feminine soul Who stood on one sole Slept late, awoke early Empties her bowl Just to fill her children's belly Twisting and turning Forgetting she's burning Farming without earning All her efforts keep churning Yet what is her reward? A gloom by her so called steward. A rich man can cheat A woman does so and she is cheap Go to the street Ask the women you meet How they made daily meat Just because of a gentleman's...

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