Waking up from the Summer of Love by Michael Doyle
Love is more than sexual annexation, And maybe that's why some hold vexation, That's what passes off as animalistic desire Comes off cold and in need of some fire.
Love and lust are more than curiosity. Tactless plays at desire hold no chemistry. It takes the obvious need for connection, And it is so much deeper than a juvenile erection.
It seems some find it a fragrant mystery, The Summer of Love has lost its intensity. They seek romance and get degeneration, It's the futility of an enraged generation.
Too often, the elements of romance are missing. It takes more than groping and excitable kissing. The dirty hippy generation with their love-ins, Only got to the commission and omissions of sins.
The question of what love truly is was a question They only approached with the most juvenile hesitation. When a generation by and large finds romance just for fun, The premise of finding love is a stuck fork of being done.
It seems some find it a fragrant mystery, The Summer of Love has lost its intensity. They seek romance and get degeneration, It's the futility of an enraged generation.
Sex, money, and endless mental-health struggles Are the latest rage, and love isn't in this jungle. Sadly, love and intimacy bring the truest equality. Without romance, there cannot be the needed intimacy.
The scripts and cues of the romantic relationship, Has been lost in the hub where all fall for worship. However deviant and skewered by what leads to sorrow, If love doesn't get its mojo back, there's no tomorrow.
It seems some find it a fragrant mystery, The Summer of Love has lost its intensity. They seek romance and get degeneration, It's the futility of an enraged generation.
(c) March 20, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
In spaces where war is thought of as glory There are legends that make for great story. Those of us who have fought for our nation Know this as a fantastic conversation.
Around the fire, it's meant to endlessly inspire So that in battle, we will not tire. At least not so much as to give up the fight, As endlessly as it can last into the night.
We find ourselves moving toward The fights and ever forward, All so we would never be flanked. The marks of battle reach truth fully ranked.
Death comes too often at our completion. It often comes quietly and without apt explanation. At least, not the acceptable kind, But the truth found can leave you half blind.
Though it's easier not to think or feel, The worst truth is that some monsters are real. They strike quietly n the silence of the night, And are gone before the morning's light.
On the back country pathways, Can be evaded for many days We hide away our treasures in a hidden cave, Keeping away the memories we live to save.
When we begin to live our nightmare In the day, we begin to forget why we care. Maybe that's the thing of war we miss most, The way we find ourselves dancing with ghosts.
(c) March 19, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“If you want to meet someone who can fix any situation you don’t like, who can bring you happiness in spite of what other people say or believe, look in a mirror, then say this magic word: ‘Hello.'” -Richard Bach
Stories are important To our understanding. They aren't just random compartments For when life gets too demanding.
Each story provides a layer Of step or steps bringing us near. These take us from here to there And make the details clear.
We cross borders along our journey, Bribed forward toward our destiny. Only pride requires life to make sense, For most, there's only a useful pretense.
Sometimes all we have is our contribution, As a step-by-step, we find the solution, Searching out answers that are to see, Until they surface quite plainly.
Sometimes bad things happen unexpectedly, And still we push on quite reasonably. Life is founded on the struggles we slip by, But we never know unless we give it our best try.
Our journey will take us places That we have been seen. We'll find this in the faces That will not seek the same sense of being.
We need to bravely open our eyes, And there before us, without surprise, Are the things that are best to be had, But without the prize, we'd be less than sad.
Somewhere along the Khyber Pass, There are reams of futures without a past. These are the dreams of innocence cast, But anyone with an ounce of wisdom knows t won't last.
(c) March 18, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Turned around to solid ground, I was no longer Hellbound. My interest in the open road Was replaced by the blessing I was told.
I find my freedom in my salvation. The glory road became my fascination. I am no longer destined for my grave, And I am thankful to be saved.
My light seen in the dark of night, I am constantly praying to get things right. Though I have traveled across the land, In Christ's strength, I will make my stand.
I've finally found love and victory. He offered redemption despite my history. In Christ alone, I feel my true home. In His love, I am no longer alone.
And so I sing my victory song, Finally knowing where I belong. I've gained sweet freedom as I atone. In the Lord, I am no longer alone.
(c) March 17, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
