11/25/11
People will hurt you because they can,
To increase their status or self respect,
By cold crushing blows which will favor their plans,
Or worse, unaware and through selfish neglect.
Yet, you must resist them because you can,
Ignore all their quick-cutting stabs jabs and twists,
To lighten, despite them, your burdens and stand,
Dispelling their hellishness with happiness.
11/24/11
Thankfulness is not mandatory,
Gratitude is not a state always shared,
Everyone has a separate story,
Not all receive what is right and what's fair.
Such celebration and grand emoting,
Arrogance wrapped in a holiday cheer,
Rather than thankful self promoting,
Might we not venture to better the year?
Thankfulness is not mandatory,
Gratitude is not a state always shared,
Everyone has a separate story,
Not all receive what is right and what's fair.
Such celebration and grand emoting,
Arrogance wrapped in a holiday cheer,
Rather than thankful self promoting,
Might we not venture to better the year?
11/21/11
My car is my confessional,
My therapist and confidant.
The chamber shell to safely tell,
All buried fears and secret wants.
Along my daily long commute,
I shall expound my love and hate,
My inner thoughts conveyed forsooth,
Across the threads of interstate.
Where might and madness are confined,
Where dreams and demons may be met,
And all the miles I leave behind,
May let me journey and forget.
11/17/11
The winter's darkness reaches us again,
Announced by daylight's grey and evening's pitch.
Formation flocks of fleeing geese and wrens,
Abscond to kinder climes, still lush and rich.
The cool seeps into corners, where it rests,
And chills the pockets in which summer hides.
All clinging greenery that still protests,
Is slowly overcome by frost and dies.
The days are short as if the sun itself,
Shall seek to nestle 'neath the skyline's brink.
The creatures scurry with alerted stealth,
To hoard their stores by cunning and instinct.
And so, we too must gather and prepare.
The light of spring is lost and far away.
For months to come, our breaths adorn the air,
As we recall the warmth of gentler days.
11/15/11
There is a woeful narritave,
Of sorrowful and desperate scenes.
Attaching segments as we live,
It slithers, skulks, and serprntines.
About the corners of our souls,
It runs a circle that repeats,
Until this tale is all we know,
A recitation of defeat.
We must dissect this worm of words,
With sharpened will, deft and controlled,
To sever all we've known and heard,
And live a story unforetold.
There is a woeful narritave,
Of sorrowful and desperate scenes.
Attaching segments as we live,
It slithers, skulks, and serprntines.
About the corners of our souls,
It runs a circle that repeats,
Until this tale is all we know,
A recitation of defeat.
We must dissect this worm of words,
With sharpened will, deft and controlled,
To sever all we've known and heard,
And live a story unforetold.
11/14/11
Tickets, passes, reservations,
Moments planned for our vacation,
Days laid out like brochure pages- bright gems strung on chains of gold.
Yet, upon more contemplation,
Should we not show hesitation,
Lest fall prey as countless sages who thought future days foretold?
When we paint the future's portrait,
Do we not engage a forfeit,
To the very fragile fabric, canvas tautened underneath?
Though we may choose to ignore it,
Time obscures all sight before it,
All itineraries - magic tales suspending disbelief.
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