Blessed is the man
who does not take offense
I'm speaking in the present tense
There is no sitting on the fence
This poem will now take me hence...

An offense will make us stumble
Forget the bluster and the bumble
Our defense will surely crumble
In all things we must be humble

When we see another's error
Are we really all the fairer?
Look Within it will be clearer
Are we looking in a mirror?

When we see reflection's bust
Do we see lines? Perhaps some crust?
Being honest is a must!
What have we done
that WE can't trust?

True of the bird as well the bee
We are all one cloth you see!
Self-assessment makes you free!

This is true humility.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/23/2016

Swans drone and thrash filling every square inch of air in this room of solitary confinement
I've got feelings, need to get 'em out
To fall upon the deafness of every ear in this house, disbelieving
The cacophony soothes me somehow
But I fall asleep listening for phantoms trapped in white noise
Sometimes it's the only way
As the stress of the day won't let up and it stretches all the way into the lonely hours of night that are more accurately referred to as the early morning
That transition is usually lost with sleep and dreams
Unless sleep and dreams are playing hide and seek
The noise of Swans comes as close to anything in giving a sound to the stiffness of my mind and the heavy weight in my heart
The mean streak, can it be forgiven or forgotten?
I have something to blame
But integrity keeps me from pointing fingers
My greatest wish is to either be
Smart enough to grasp the worlds philosophies
Or so dumb they don't mean a freakin' thing to me
I'm tired of existing in the halfway point between the poles
Tired of courting hatefulness
Knowing it's not me
Hosting a wretched spirit with dark thoughts and self loathing
Knowing knowing knowing knowing knowing
My Father Who art in Heaven
Hold my cowardice not against me
Let there be justice in this one thing I ask
As I lay me down to sleep
Let not the morning sunrise stir my soul
Lost in deep unconsciousness I offer one final breath
Take it, Lord, and give me not another inhalation
Set my spirit free while my lanky body hardens 'neath the quilt my grandma made for me
Show me the mystery of all that lies ahead
And let not those I left behind cry that I am dead
May their mourning bring them peace and when it ends much joy
I'm not suggesting you made a mistake
But I just don't belong here
So when I close my eyes tonight
I will squint, hold the lids down hard and tight
And finally pray You'll make it all right
Please let my spirit drift listlessly into the night
In the name of your precious Son
                                                                  Amen

Riddle me this,
Riddle dee dee.

How does one
Be Happy?

Mill to mill a bitter pill this treadmill that we're led to

and from mill to mill we will always be

candy for the mills of society




they gab in the background about Christmas,

alas

no Christmas for me

the foreman has told me to work that day

and no turkey shall I see




cold ham and pickle with cheese and a tickle of trout

lightly poached (nightly poached) from the river that runs through his Lordship's land




and yes




I bite the hand that feeds me for it's the same hand that needs me in mill to mill when will it all end.

I watch the waves
Crashing down below
I see the lighthouse
Lighting up the snow

I watch the sunset
Slipping out of sight
I see all the ships, make
Portraits in the night

I watch the stars intently
As colour fills my eyes
Tears of amazement
In wonder of the skies

I leave the embers glowing
I let my feet lead the way
Following the imprints
Along the rustic quay

I rest upon the harbour
I see your face appear
My is heart beating, racing
As we meet along the pier

some tongues are vipers
flicking a poisoned heart

some eyes are ravenous
all they see is a meal

some hands are claws
they only know how to take

some minds are closed
shut up tight in ignorance.

silence is often abused
a weapon of choice

but like everything
in its purest form

within silence
beautiful comes close.

the hardest thing in this life

has to be the loss of a child

there is no way to explain

the pain the loss hands out

the void it leaves behind

where the heart did once reside

even the thought is heartbreakingly cruel

in what the loss to a soul can do

the darkness that greets each new day

the sadness you continually have to brave

the hardest part of losing a child you've raised

is the emptiness that never goes away