When she walked it was as though
     the wind would move her
she would flow like summer breeze
one could barely behold
the perfection – oh the ease
with which she moved

Each step was like the ballet
like Swan Lake was set afoot
in the person of her womanhood
she, like no other could

Men fell in states of blunder
and ladies shapes of awe
for none could stand before her
not one resist her call

The Mona Lisa in the flesh
a living work of art
her subtlety betrayed her
a disguise she ill could wear

Her modesty set before her
a veil that through would shine
the loveliness of her countenance
the lady so sublime

I saw her once.

Pull yourself up
never surrender
no pain no gain
get some

collapse
give up
stop the pain
leave it

crush it
win at all costs
may the best man win
no quit

loosen your grip
enjoy the journey
lose with grace
stop

destroy the day
seize the day
capture the victory
nothing is too much to give

relax
today
might be the last
day

The day flows on
even in the most basic ways
when we have the best of our days
there is still the pain

It radiates and rises from the pores
when we are uninjured
but who among us is ever truly
unhurt?

At my best I rise and fall
in various states of anger
angst
bitterness

I cannot recall the last peaceful day
a day without pain
be it the pain of the mind
or the ache of the body
the first because of the latter

Yet it doesn’t seem to matter
what is done
or undone
it remains and I remain
two enemies trapped together
my Pain and I
like two bitter foes who’ve been at struggle
so long
they couldn’t understand a day alone
without the other

there’s a tale in my head
I don’t know how it came to reside there
a tale in my head
that looks to stay a while there

it’s far too ugly to say
I dare not write it down here
this tale in my head
I can never seem to get clear

if I tell you this tale
you might not hang around me
you’d probably run off
thinking I am crazy

and you’d be right
I’m sure of that much
for what sane man could have
a tale as such
and not share it?

Don’t tell me the world is beautiful
when death and despair
hold court
abroad

Don’t tell me how lucky we are
in our comfy homes
when death and despair
strangle the outraged among us

Tell me the truth
that we are immensely fortunate
that death and despair
are a surprise
a shock
to some
but daily drivers for others

the world dies
but we cry
when the cell service is weak

how weak
how pathetic
how could we be as blind as we are
so humanely ignorant
and still be alive?

beautiful breathing madness
one breath shy of nothing
this is who we really are

I was going to lead the people
to higher things
to their victory
but I was busy
and I grew older
let the younger man lead

I had a desire
to author the greatest poems
and move hearts
but time went too fast
and I let the young man write them

I intended to live
the fullest life
and make a difference
but was working the hours
day after day
and it all passed me by

you are the young man
do it for me - for us
it is too late for me
all has passed me by
I am still too busy
time still passes me by
I am still working the hours

not you, though
let my intentions motivate you
where my actions fell short
you are the young man

do it
Please do it
do it today; young man
for tomorrows soon you will be me too

There is a place where nobody asks questions
and nobody judges
where you can be yourself, without fear of the barking majority
or even the angry minority
no matter which you belong to out here

where you can say what you are thinking
instead of what you should
and there are no jurors or judges
just you and the really you

where the façade is lifted
the drapes are wide open
and the raw being of you is on display
but nobody cares – nobody is there to like it, or dislike it – or even notice it

what good would that be?
a place where you are you – and I am me – and there are no witnesses?
no one saying that’s wrong… or that’s right?
no indignation, no empathy, no willful disregard?

Yes, there is a place where nobody asks questions
and nobody judges
how horrible that place must be