I think I may have
an aboulia
maybe even
aboulomania

but I'll give this a
pirouette
with panache

unless I come down
with
asthenia

I'll set up a balize
to guide my figurative
calamus

as words debouch
from
my thalamus

words that have been
in the eccaleobion
for a time
aeonian

it won't make much sense
as these things seldom do
a blague is a blague is a blague
completely
all the way through

why does *****
sound and look
so much more
refined
than its
American cousin?

how can one little letter
"e"
make such a difference?

after all
it is silent
doesn't speak up
in defense of the word

just sits at the end
all perky
and quirky

though it does
impact
its fellow vowel
as if it has some
magical power

wonder who exactly
made up the silly rules
[rhetorical!]

I once was told
during a discussion
of the difference
in some of the "rules"
between here and 'cross the pond

by a very brilliant man,
a genius, they say
who happened to be a Brit
[Americanized]

I was told

"English
is just
a made-up
language."

And I had to wonder
did the others
fall from the clouds?
wash up from the sea?
just appear out of nowhere?

so now I wonder should I change the title
since I have two things here
oh, wait I guess that's three things
that
I wonder

save your tears
for those who cannot
cry for themselves

save your tears
for meaningful things

for birds of flight
who have lost their wings

for the baby seal
dark eyes eternally deep
who trusting man
feels his heavy club
before eternal sleep

don't cry for your own
misfortune
or pain

think of trees
showered with acid rain

save your tears
for things that
affect everyone

save your tears
for
meaningful things

like fewer song birds
to sing

cry for waters filled
with man's trash
for landfills
and sewage
and sooty ash

don't cry because
your possessions are few

or because
someone
doesn't care for you

cry for the rivers
cry for the sky
cry for the child
who doesn't know
why
his earth is covered
with concrete and steel

cry for the birds
cry for the trees

cry for diminishing numbers
of bees

cry till the world has
no more fears

cry till the salt
is gone
from your tears

cry till the water
that runs
from your eyes
becomes
a new river
clear and wide

let it pour through
mountains
proud and tall

let it rush
to the ocean
mother of all

may she embrace
the rain from
your eyes
water of a being
loving and wise

save your tears
for meaningful things
save your tears
for birds without wings

save your tears

there are some
who seem not to  
"get it"

they don't like the way
that you
said it

some who only want
plain ol'
talk

anything else
they tend to mock

they want no
one to poetically speak
no color
no sparkle
or mystique

they are the poetry  
bashers and crashers

they **** all the magic out
I think it's too bad
they don't understand
I think that it truly is sad