Dear, friend–
As of late, my thoughts
have lingered over
greed's never-ending war
on love.
All my life,
the petty and the mean
have lectured at me.
In so many words,
they've told me many times
those who struggle
are but criminals
and subhumans,
each of whom know nothing
of love.
But in my observations,
I've seen God's white aura
emanate from women and men
who stroll dangerously
along broken sidewalks.
These people were the only ones
to ever offer me
their ***** their assistance,
and their ************* truths
without conditions.
There's a purity
among the starved, my friend.
Innocence. Honesty.
A fierce fortitude
of the soul.
While those with great means
must figure out new ways to ******
for more,
it was always the ones with little
who have blessed me
in the most dire moments
of life.
I believe
a man who knows struggle
is equipped with the tools to fight
whenever greed tries
to wrap its poisonous tentacles
around his throat.
In that fight,
the face of hope is revealed
and true love
is born.
Sincerely,
–Me
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC
You are the elixir
of overworked men
a companion
for lonely souls
and a boxing ring
for the fighting spirit
Your camaraderie
leads to immediate
regret
but such pain
forces peace
in the new day
Mar 26, 2022
Mar 26, 2022 at 1:26 PM UTC
The last generation
asked for success.
Our generation
asked to be left alone.
This generation
asks only to mitigate
the pain.
–Ron Gavalik
Feb 7, 2022
Feb 7, 2022 at 3:20 AM UTC
if we abandoned
the pursuit of quick cash
and instead
fortified dignity
with the rusted remnants
of ancestors
workers would know
justice
they would feel
joy
–Ron Gavalik
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 1:49 PM UTC
I poured the last
of the whiskey
into a glass
and then walked out.
It waits for me
atop the stove
as another chance
after the failures
of labor
and love.
–Ron Gavalik
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 3:30 PM UTC
sometimes
sidewalks appear
as graveyards
full of open mouths
and closed eyes
beauty goes unnoticed
and love
unfulfilled
–Ron Gavalik
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 7:25 PM UTC
The poet
regularly battles the mob
and displays those scars
carved into his heart.
The poet
is despised in his time
and admired
by the generations
he never meets.
–Ron Gavalik
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 2:17 PM UTC
Sometimes I'm the boy
who stood helpless
on my grandmother's porch
looking down the hill
upon Hell's fire
and the black plumes
that pushed men
into early graves
–Ron Gavalik
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 12:20 AM UTC
In the first pandemic
of the 21st Century,
there's nothing to do,
but get drunk on well bourbon,
scream at the memories
of ****** gone astray,
and write poetry
on cheap paper.
–Ron Gavalik
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 9:22 PM UTC
She said,
‘You really don’t know
how to love.’
I disagreed.
The next one said,
‘You don’t express love.’
I disagreed.
The last one
didn’t say anything.
She just walked.
Now, I agree.
–Ron Gavalik
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 1:26 AM UTC