Jesus wore only a robe.
He did not tell those who gathered
around him how to get rich. He
told them to love one another.

Today, the religions of the world
are of untold wealth. I suggest all sell
their manifold possessions and give all
the proceeds to the poorest of the poor.

Jesus wore only a robe.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

Put down the phone—
put down the keyboard,
       and go to them.

They might never see
                why,
or know why

but bring them roses
even though stereotypical,
bring them chocolates
because the world is bitter,

sing a tune
that the media feeds
will never understand.

pull you close
grab my waist
rest my hands
on your face
kiss you slow
close embrace
lift me up
wearing lace
hands will drift
press and trace
melting with
the sweet taste
love on lips
time to waste
you and i
in this place

s.s

you can't see me
I'm invisible
but if you see
through the grass
then first you'll be
hypnotized by my eyes
yellow
and diamond
come stay
you may
I'll craw around you
observing
you look nice
but you're just a mice
Do you care?
Shall I spare
you?

so I bite
like a knife
but as gentle as I can
cause you're my friend after all

I bite
with two long teeth
down through your feet

I bite
but only if you want to return
like a 'home run'
as fast as death
speed with breath

just say my name

"Snake"

and say the word

"bite"

I be there...

you start to see things a lot differently once you set an expiration date on yourself.
there's beauty in the small things; the feel of warm dirt beneath bare feet, the gentle clucking of chickens, the brush of a cat's whiskers against your cheek. you suddenly want to watch every sunrise and sunset, to count every star, to take long walks through nature. you eat what you want and no longer care what people think because it doesn't matter, you will be dead in five days and no one will remember your name.
you are now nothing but a faceless silhouette, and no one cares enough to remember the little moments but you collect them like a child collecting seashells. you treasure every glance and exchanged word and half smile sent your way. you settle for the bare minimum because that's all you have ever received and will ever receive.
you find optimism in the dark moments; you **** a mosquito only to lay beside its crumpled body and watch a tiny ant drag it away, carrying three times its weight and you are jealous. you are jealous because you can't even handle yourself, and you are not strong enough for this world, not smart enough to figure out what you're supposed to do with your silly little life. you tip your chin back to the sky and wonder if the sun ever loved the moon, if the rose ever loved the daisy, if anyone could ever love you, and you're afraid that you'll never know.
but the fear within us is all the hope we are afraid to hope for. if you are not afraid, then you have no hope, and what are you then? free to die in silence and gray ashes and dead flowers from people who stopped coming to visit you long ago?
how could the sun love the moon, how could the rose love the daisy? if we are only fit to love those within our standards, then what is love really? chosen? picked at random? or is it a passion, a longing, a scrap of a song sung to a star?
and then comes the reality, that we are finite beings, and it doesn't matter if the rose and the daisy got their happily ever after, and it doesn't matter if the sun loved the moon because the moon loves you and the stars welcome you with open arms and yet you still cower on this pathetic earth, and it begs the question,

are you afraid to fly?

Love.
How simple that word is except it has been misunderstood; illused,
Media portrays it everywehere.
So much so, it's shoved down our throats.
Some say love is forgive and forget; blood runs thicker.
But what about the one who manipulates, anillates, and isolates this thing.
This little thing called love.
L-O-V-E
it puts the L in "love me just as I am,"
the O in "Over and Over please forgive me,"
V in whispered in the "Very unpredictable challenges that come" and E.
E as in"Every day remind me with those sweet tender nothings. "
We wish for the old timey love but instead we now wish,
for the love where we grow old, and it doesn't matter what time makes us look like.
The love where we don't want to get the phone.
The love where we pursue through the tough times.
Where we don't give up after just one fight.
Or we misuse our words.
Kind of like the word love.
I've heard it gets misused a lot.