Nobody warns you before the fall.

There’s a fine line between supporting your kids and getting in their way. Know this and know peace.

Downing tall glasses of Weihenstephan on a Wednesday afternoon by the Hamburg harbour following a perfect meal of fish and chips is a top tier experience.

What do they call the kind of adaptation when humans become indifferent to the fact of non-humans masquerading as humans among them in the Internet?

Apple's exchange rate is driving me NUTS! WTF!?
The Swedish vs. American store price is WILD!

Sometimes, pay the price and, learn to live with a broken heart.

“If the setting makes the man, the setting is the man.” ~ Alan Watts.

To betray the trust of a child is evil.
Dogs are put down for bitting. Pedophiles should be shot in the head.

I don’t know you but I can tell you that your primary purpose in life is to help others.

Thank GOD for happy accidents.

Portable is not potable.

This poem reflects on the quiet forms courage takes in everyday life—persistence without recognition, and the small acts that keep people moving forward. The Sound of Ordinary Courage Most courage doesn’t look like thunder. It looks like someone getting up again without announcing it. It looks like quiet hands washing a cup, paying a bill, answering a message when the heart isn’t in it. No banners. No applause. Just the stubborn decision to keep going.

This poem is about noticing where real wisdom lives—not in noise or success, but in people who slow down, listen carefully, and remain attentive to the world. A Thought I Had While Walking The world is loud about the wrong things. Success. Speed. Winning. But the best people I know move slowly and listen carefully. They notice the sky. They ask real questions. They remember your name. If there’s wisdom anywhere, I think it lives there.

This poem explores how small acts of kindness can become deeply meaningful, especially when someone is struggling and needs even the smallest gesture of care. The Weight of Small Kindness A door held open. A stranger smiling. Someone saying “take your time.” These things seem tiny until the day you desperately need one. Then suddenly a small kindness feels like oxygen. And you realize how easily we save each other.

This poem reflects on what people ultimately remember about one another—not victories or achievements, but loyalty, honesty, and the way someone stayed present through difficult moments. What Remains In the end I don’t think we remember the victories. We remember who stayed. Who spoke honestly. Who didn’t run when things got difficult. History may forget our names. But the people we loved won’t forget how we lived.

Sometimes a poem doesn’t answer anything.
Sometimes it just sits with the truth a little longer than we usually allow.

Either way, here are some new poems. 💙💙💙
#poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

Social media + A.I. could be the final form of MK Ultra.

Thank you.

Oh Yes, Mr. Rick. Your president’s got several loose screws from his head.

The USA?

Steer us in the direction to view the proof? Thanks.

Listening to my grandparents and other respectable elders has help me. A lot. Lord knows.

Humans have this inborn error, that we exist in order to be happy. The US OGs even added “the pursuit of Happiness” to their founding doc, I think. As long as we persist in this inborn error, our world will forever seem to us to be full of contradictions.

The faces of most elderly people are etched with disappointment mostly because experience has thought them that the world and life are certainly not arranged for the purpose of being content.

My childhood programming involved respecting my elders.

No specific reason was provided but I was ever so reminded that “even a broke clock is correct twice a day”.

Wisdom can also be found in hopeless places.

Despite its contradictions and the unknown nature of the post-death experience, if there is such a thing, I love life and enjoy being alive.

Post-nut clarity is the devil’s laughter.

Thanks for the explanation.

Perplexed. Explain?

A concise sermon.

Some things are attractive ONLY because you can’t have them.

What did your meat ever do to you to deserve beating? Poor meat.

What is it though?

I’m not even fazed. That’s how bad the state of affairs are.