Tag Archives: Love

P.H.I.L-osophy

 

I believe not so much in theology.

I have very little interest in geology.

But I do have a very unique philosopy,

And I’d like to share it with you.

 

I call this philosophy, appropriately, “Phil,”

For that is an acronym of the initials

Or the four central pillars, make of them what you will:

I hope they will apply to you.

 

P is for positive,

Which is often a pain.

It means to refrain

When you’d like to complain.

When you want to criticize, simply abstain,

And you’ve mastered the first part of “Phil.”

 

H is for happiness,

Which is no more than a choice.

When the world offers bad things, listen not to the voice

Which would make you be said, but instead make the choice

To be happy, and you’ve mastered more “Phil.”

 

I’s for integrity,

A hard word to rhyme.

It means to be honest, and refrain from crime.

Do what’s right, even if it’s hard, and do so every time,

And you’re almost done mastering “Phil.”

 

And L is for love.

It’s predictable, yes.

It’s very important, or so I should guess.

Everyone loves someone, or something, to death;

Love everyone like them, whether Elmer or Tess.

And thus, we finish Phil.

 

Choose to be positive, and give folks a chance.

Choose to be happy, regardless of circumstance.

Say what is honest and do what is right,

And love every person.  That is “Phil.”  Good night!

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Filed under Poems, To the Reader

Love is:

In the woman’s mind:

 

Love begins as a dove:

It is quiet, sublime, and simple.

Love evolves.

It becomes an eagle:

It must be strong to survive, and often it becomes vicious.

Then love is the space shuttle:

There is no limit to where it can fly, and you will see new places the rest of your days.

 

In the man’s mind:

 

Love begin as  a rooster in the suburbs:

It is noisy, the main point is cock, and it alienates you from your friends.

Love evolves, sort of like a Pokemon.

It becomes a Chinese Restaurant:

Basically, cock is still being put in mouths, but you’re not sure if this is what you ordered.

And remember, love is like flatulence:

If you have to force it, it’s probably crap.

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Lady in Blue

I remember back in high school

When I met a girl at work.

She was dressed in blue and shined like the sun

And never dated jerks.

 

One might say I bought her love

With accessories and trinkets,

But I fashioned up a love contract

And my name, well, I did ink it.

 

Now every time I drive to work

She’s with me all the time.

In the darkness she’s a flash of light.

In my poems, she’s my ryhme.

 

And sometimes we run of of gas,

If you know what I mean.

She waits for me while I fill a can

And polishes her sheen.

 

So if you disagree with the idea

Of marrying an object, tough luck.

Because I will always be faithful

To my lady in blue, my truck.

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Filed under Poems