Kindness is a light we share,  
A gentle hand in times of need,  
A quiet solace when hearts despair.

It blooms in moments small and rare,  
A whispered word and a thoughtful deed,  
A spark of love beyond compare.

In every soul, it finds its way,  
A bridge to heal, a wound to mend,  
A gift that brightens every day.

Stand before your mirror.
Look yourself in the eye.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.

Ask the question
you fear the most.

If you dare to listen,
truth won’t lie.

Distraction corrupts you.
As you lack interest.
I am just, noise.
Your ears are cushioned; absorbing a buzz.

Just listen to me, respect me.
Mocking me as I try to be civil.
You belittle me.
And the buzzing stops.

Your head finally turns.
You slapped the fly,
and its juices neatly seat the bench,
and you stare, and you don't care.

I slump, melting.
Clenching my jaw.
You pluck my wings,
and I let you.

My dignity stripped.
Your ego; unrestrained, unrestricted.
I just watch,
as my eyes blurt a river.

A QUICK WORD
I’ve read some MOVING
WORDS
IN REACTION TO MY POETRY…
I don’t seek FAME…
Just to know that ONE POEM…
Could make another persons…
Wheels TURN A BIT IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME… THANKS TO YOU ALL…

I think I’ll write
another poem
&
name it after you
use words that still confuse me
& then
use them like they’re glue
throw lids on my good mornings
all misread and reused
pretend every day is Sunday
sleep in &
come to
I’m
driving myself crazy
play the same songs
and peruse
the head I use to love you &
the bones inside me too
I will not rush it like tomorrow
won’t try to
burn a tiny wick
still I just
fall asleep to you
writing a poem like
a wish

All we need is darkness
for the natural selection of light
I watch the past as a travel show
the necessity or adversity ignites language,
different shapes of games, we like the power plays
of circle
let me be sealed in a wave
I want to descend to the faith of sand
to the Cro-Magno vision of words

Strung prose
Like puzzle pieces
Broken across the page
No longer
Im too linear now
For all that
Maybe
Before long
I'll write
Instruction manuals
And think
They're poetic