Before the Buttons Lost,....!

Before the Buttons Lost, How Much the Effort!

Of all the sadness that could ever be of life, water and to God above, it is wonder.
To see through the shades how deep the well and all that was drawn closed in fear.
Of all the calling by just a thread, how kingdoms fall, woman crawl all senses dim.

To lesser child while mother call to window, her ignorance sets in defeating of the heart. 
The other children more complete do not miss the tender hand, but lesser needs of a mend.
She wonder about a start again, still all the schools have shifted post and send; death nears.

The thread of sow as older brothers, sister’s towed, younger bruised and missing fend does contend.
She passes as it never end, all her friends now missing, so much gone to all the wander and lesser ill.
Of the entire needle, the thread, what is the button now, so hurt, numbed of all works past, the battles.

Life, the romance, first, now, last, so west, now turned revolved and near to pick him up and heal the past.
Yet, no mother now as age take all who miss their chance, life now shorter for all as educated friends tend.
Life to all who witness, but for the button made and missing of all the reason, will, why as he sat and cried.

One so gone, all the time missing, crowd, formed shell of clam new glistening as the father hides in heaven.
To stand a prayer amongst all the tatter, broken teeth and all so much now mis-fitting, work and never there.
Minds bend before bottoms, books leap, death comes a calling and keeps light from ones’ breath and sense.

How much is the wedding dance as books get tossed and lost, all important focus its’ post dead and gone.
How much is money spent and all good sense, even Father who worked so hard, forgotten at the window.
How much the harder as sword now turned a threads friend, tending all the buttons missing care and end. 

By Michael J. Pinger 3/16/08

Dedicated to all those who know not what is missing in History, be it of Theology or Man, mind or matter, movie or the Actor. Dedicated to the real Pope and his Caring tend. 

A poem inspired by the portrayal of Calvero by Charlie Chaplin. I seen so much a great man leading all entertainment to a new level. He having the courage and charactor to outstep his stero-typed past with the strength to bend the bars of stero-typing to encourage elder actors stuck in such confines (none sound movies) to move onward and expand their horizions before their audience.

I found the strength to see those of educational poles changed from a Russia to Germany and finally France and they trying to regain and catch up through courting and marraige while forgetting their own lessor for long enough that they fell. I seen a deep understanding of that situation sublimly expressed as one personally stepped into a postion that would, if one intelligent enough to realize it, would see how great a heart and how important that mercy be instored because of what was lacking in understanding in such areas of understanding. I saw a great man of mercy and compassion as well of great expression that reaches to great depths, horizions and futures. I tried to capture and pay tribute as such, in this poem.   


  If Clowns Could Speak!

Don't put your candy in the bowl if you are not to space heaven and school first.
Then you will know, it is open arms and hope that you can, live be and proper so.
Don't play with the bees, unless you can climb the right trees; know every branch.
Best you stay in the bar and Nash, best you sharpen your dull tools; forever will be.
Best not try to dress to be the greatest warrior; you will never reach, had not teach.

Your arsenal is empty just go to the bar, your treasures are hidden, out your reach.
I have no time for animals and know when I have nothing to ride and I shall not hide.
I am not sorry for those told and yet they still don't rise, go to the bar or stable and die.
Time is not for such hero’s, time is not for you, time is not for zeros, time is not for you.
Bright as it be, his words are few, his words are for you, his words do, for Babylon too!

By Michael J. Pinger 3/19/08

Owed to a special Clown, the author of Calvero and what they can not tell you demons.