What I’ve learned over time
Through my own self sacrifice
Is simple, and it’s this:
Admitting when to say no
is just as important as
knowing when to say yes.
Monthly Archives: January 2021
An Observation—early 2021
People would do anything to be different.
Anything to stand out.
People would do anything not to fit the norm—
that after a while they all became the same.
The Freedom They Lost
The more I looked the more I noticed
people defending their freedom to speak—
when in fact it seemed and showed so clearly—
from their trembling hands to their worried eyes—
that they had given up their freedom to think for themselves—
and became defenseless, bold, and unexplainably proud—
having lost their voice long before it could ever be taken.
Prophets for Profit
One commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, people love to tell others
Not to subscribe to another’s bullshit
But watch, and listen to their own.
Another commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, these same people
No matter how delusional
Will acquire followers like sheep to a Shepard.
And they do it warmly, and with a smile.
And they’ll agree with you entirely.
They’ll make you feel safe.
They’ll tell you what to see and how to see it,
Treating you like their own personal parlor trick.
Their greatest illusion will be their acceptance.
While the bullshit they feed
In return for a profit—they’ll make themselves
The prophet—which they need to feel sound.
One commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, people who can’t be alone
Will do everything it takes not to be alone
Even when that means taking you with them.
They will win your will, with or without your consent.
They will make it feel like your own choice
To gain your trust, and dissolve you of fear.
Though fear isn’t always a negative—
Often it’s a tell tale sign—so
These commonalties I’ve noticed
Are geared to my liking, but at least
I’ve got the peasants fortune to tell you
That, prophets for profit will always be cunning.
And though wolves wear many clothes,
So do Shepards.
Solace’s Depths
People might never understand
sincere isolation or solace’s depths
until they find themselves
most comfortably within
their own weightless bounds of solitude.
Pushcart Man
I see a pushcart man
Tired and withdrawn
Ever so slowly moving on
Who reminds me in my morning
The only work that pays off
Is hard work—
Bless his soul
A Tale of Two Cities—Broken from Birth
People were always
Dying to get in, or
Dying to get out.
Nobody ever wanted
To be where they were—
And it was always that way—
It was A Tale of Two Cities.
Cruel and hostile, broken
From birth—The bread
When shared, had long since spoiled.
So left were the people’s
Disgruntled denial, who’d sacrifice
Even their own mothers love—for lies—
Because, the truth was tough
and too hard to swallow.
And it was never their fault.
But neither was it His.
My very American illusion of happiness
Nothing feels good tonight.
Nothing sits well.
Nothing but myself and beer
to drown away my very American illusion
of happiness—my dear, I’m not sorry.
Please understand.
Call it a wash
People were like soap operas—
So when I could,
I’d turn them to sonnets.
And when I couldn’t,
I’d call it a wash.
Awesome—
I don’t need reassurance
to know I’m awesome—
Denial’s just too much fun
and if I actually had the drive
I’d be off a cliff by now—
inspiring admiration, apprehension, or fear.
It always hurt to admit, but what doesn’t?
