Better to be taciturn
Than babble through a tacky turn
And fail to hear enough to learn
In common conversation

Others may proclaim you shy
Or timid, mousy, terrified
Resist the urge to justify
Your ramble regulation

It doesn’t make you weak or mute
To take a minute to compute
A thought before you contribute
May optimise your speaking

Pause won’t hurt your cause unless
Your words are just a game of chess
To press, suppress, or to impress
Correcting or critiquing

Do you desire a partnership?
A sharing, caring, airing?

Or more of a dictator-grip?
A snaring, scaring, blaring?

Maybe you are silence-scared
Uncomfortable with empty air
And feel it is your job to bare
The sound continuation

Worry not my helpful friend
Your heavy duty at an end
More useful with an ear to lend
       Look kind toward the taciturn
       You may yet find a lot to learn
With still consideration

Don’t worry yourself, purrs Negative Voice
I'm telling you this to protect you
No lead in your pencil
So pointless in fact
No person of worth would respect you

    Dear Negative Voice,
       I see what you mean
       But just a brief point for reflection
       I’m not sure I’m really an absolute waste
       Consider some minor correction?

It’s better for you, coos Negative Voice
To know that you’re practically useless
No rain in your storm cloud
So juiceless in fact
You’re toothless, inept, and excuseless

    Dear Negative Voice,
       A stirring reply
       Is this in totality truthful?
       I’m sure my ineptitude has measured bounds
       And even just sometimes, I’m useful

The beauty of living this version of truth
Is, you are at maximum harm
Nothing they’re possibly saying to you
Will add to your sense of alarm

Providing agreement to monster-y ones
Might also afford added aid
Appeasing and easing an excessive ego
May downgrade a wailing cascade

    Dear Negative Voice,
       Deep thanks for your thoughts
       A note of some gentle resistance
           I notice I’m having the thought that I’m worthless
           Historically helpful, but now with no purpose
       Distinct in my voice, yours holds limited purchase    
       So now I can give you some distance
           I humbly suggest
           This grateful request
       For inner, more peaceful existence

Travel free my inner scapegoat
You’re liberated, off this hook
No more shame-horned
Guilt-stomached dread,
       scarce enough to wrong-bare
Not startle-sneezed or tremble-shook

I excise redundant remnants
Bad wattle glands where crime hangs large
Not Billie-blame,
Nanny-regret
       or just a wrongless kid
No fair-trial felon, biased charge

Imagine dropping heavy torts
The solid clunk as fault hits floor
Past carried light
Kind compassion
       wide enough to weight-bare
Rich mixed plant pasture evermore
An end to serveless inner war

Mimosa pudica retreat
Humid glasshouse, rainy day
Pane-separated from the world
Exhaling foggy vagueness
Colours run wet
World through window walls,
a distorted Monet reproduction
Morphing, mixing, mushy
Each canvas exists for a sliding second
Glass and breath
Collaborating through condensation
Our fuzzy-haze masterwork

Panoramic gossamer lens
Magically softens
spiky, scratchy, sharp, crispness
into a smudgy simulacrum
A kind deceit
Frowns, scowls, growls,
and bared-toothy rage,
all smeared
Gently redacted
Calm, dreamy, pillowscape broadcast
Impressionist buffer
In muted pastels

Reality in artful disguise
Remoulded for ease of consumption
Sugary spoonful of subterfuge
Sifting, sorting, selective
Incomplete and fragmentary
Blur-clouded brain-break
Intermittent extra distance
Breath-focused,
soupy-warm,
momentary masterpiece
Just for me
Until my leaves unfurl

we pick at the healing
tissue and it starts to
bleed just when the
wounds were
beginning to heal

we then go back in time
it starts us on yet another
harrowing journey of 
body spirit & mind

we try so hard to read
between the lines
that blur the harder
we try, blending what
can only be seen
through unfiltered eyes

(scales removed to see
the only Light that can
truly make manifest)

all we can do is smooth
out the edges and
touch-up unclear vision
with our patented
Photoshop Human Sheen

thinking we can reveal
what is holy in the
spiritually null & void
obscene

we have learned to
incorporate what order
we make of chaos into
a well-oiled
smooth-running
Rhetoric Machine

made from blueprints
of someone else’s
self-ordained dream