The Boss is always right
as his boss is certainly too
ever a man of far sight
do as he wants you to do.

Quietly knock his door
and before you show your face
knock just once no more
wait for him to say yes.

Watch when you enter his room
if he is beaming or sad
don't invite your doom
he can be worse than bad.

Don't speak if he's busy at work
stand with patience noiseless
to speak never embark
till he looks straight at your face.

If he asks you your job's progress
be ready with all your tricks
the best way to have him impressed
is to confuse him with statistics.

Just ensure the figures add up right
there's no glaring mistake
if one such comes to his sight
no way you retain your neck.

Answer to the point he asks
give him the master's due
never ever try to assert
impose on him your view.

Not try to prolong the discourse
make it very brief and precise
your logic would always be coarse
to the Boss who is far more wise.

Move back facing your Boss
keep it always in mind
what makes him really very cross
is to see your swinging behind.

Once you are back to your seat
your wounds do secretly nurse
vent your head's all the heat
mutter your choicest curse.

I'm a prisoner of my own words
trapped inside
thoughts of endless meaning
hidden behind clichés of familiarity.
Another torn memory;
a mistake I can't take back.
Echoes of words said
stuck inside the cell of no return.
I'm living on borrowed time
and, my darling, there's no cure for the endless word rhymes.
The beginning is the end
the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Never ending
circle of circles.
I'm an inmate of my own mind
haunted by regret and broken dreams
there's no escaping
     no where to hide
I'm a prisoner of what's on
the inside.

To wonder where on beaches or in skies
Lives freedom
Or to contemplate of clouds
The nature of their making
In this
I am moved
To mouth the names of ancestors
To call in song dear kindred, for whose imprints
I sweep the sand
In fragments of faltering dreams
A search for meaning
Where breathes an origin of founding stars


MChallis @ 2015

There is a great distance
A vastly endless space
A divide that echoes longing
Separating me from you

And within this great distance
Awareness is born
These two entities are destined to be
Their bond infallible

Where is the great distance
Of which I was painfully aware
Now it seems obsolete
We are intangibly connected

There is no great distance
Separating me from you

As the shadows
grow long and
the days become short.

Winter approaches
as the leaves of color
fall from the trees.

Flowers disappear
as the light of day
fades to shortened time.

Wrapping plants
in blankets
to protect from incoming cold.

Gathering wood
to pile by the hearth
in preparation for a cold stormy night.

You breathe my name into
your chest, letting me settle
like dust into your bones.

Tethering me to this moment,
eyes fierce, burning as vibrant
as tiger lilies in a vengeful sun.

Your fingers burning holes in
our sheets, leaving remnants
of their disgust in my scars.

Even to this day I cannot stay
up for the sunrise, I find your
taste infused on my tongue.

And I'm still left to wonder if it
was Lucifer I saw in your eyes
or the gods that condemned me.

Busy helping people pick up their shards
That I've even forgotten my pieces still
Linger on the floor, some too shattered
To be picked.
I'm busy trying to shine some light along their path
Forgetting the beam seldom gives as much light
To the person holding the torch of inspiration
I'm so caught up cleaning up other people's mess
That even when mine stinks I think It's just the remnant of theirs
I'm so ******* helping them deal with their demons
Probably because I fear facing my own monster
With a heavy log in my eye but I only see the specks in theirs
I'm the life guard of their swim across the ocean of despair
But my anchor is sinking me deeper and deeper
I'm teaching many the basics of combat in life
Yet life is the one battlefield I have failed to fight on
I guess I'm worse than them who seek for healing
For they are unlike me brave enough to realize they need a therapy

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?