Today, 12 hours post night shift, my brain-waves are flipping and flopping. The following poem is about duality.

Flip-Flop

There's a flip side to everything
And here's the flip,
No matter where your journey leads
It's still a crazy trip.

There's a flap side to everything
And here's the flap,
What flies through the air
Just might land in your lap,
When it gets in the air
It has a tendency to hover,
And should that stuff hit the fan
You better duck and cover.

There's a flop side to everything
And here's the flop,
You can sow some good seeds
And still get a bad crop,
You can cut out the deadwood
To eradicate the weevil,
But still, the best intentions
May turn out to be evil.

The best laid plans of
Big mice and little men,
Are often torn asunder
By the power of the pen,
And while the downside type of person
Will tell you, what they should have had,
Each experience will be tainted
When all they see is bad.

So the flip side to me
Might be the flop side to you,
It's just a matter of perspective
A singular point of view,
And there is a flip side to everything
But to me, it's all the same,
The experience is the reward
It's a unique kind of game.

Fibril_late; 5/1/08