Arriving like a Queen,
with ego so solid,
her gravity dwarfed mine;
with self-importance so momentous,
she steamrollered me.
Acting like she owned the place;
and for a minute I accidentally let her...
I was stunned by hubris so stealthy,
picking my pockets of self-esteem.
She demanded and I served,
taking what she wanted,
and leaving.
Just      Like      That.

before I could realize,
before she could realize,
she is an impostor, a thief.

She's rich with everything she ever wanted.

Poor Thing.

Next time I promise to recognize her m.o. in time,
so she might recognize herself as well.
She needs me to stop her in her tracks,
because I am the Queen of me.
a mirror in self-confidence to say,
*may I ask who you are?

I don’t want the best for my children.
I want them to work hard and get little back.
I want them to blister in the heat and freeze in the cold.
I want them to sweat.
I want them to give up something they want for something they need.
I want them to work until not only do they not want to work, they physically can’t.
I want them to come home and collapse in their beds.
I want them to stay up late, putting in their very best effort, and come home without a ribbon.
I want them to give their all, and come up short.
I want them to jump for their dreams and crash, hard, into the concrete.
Why?
I want this not because I am cruel,
but because I want them to drink deeply of life and appreciate the sweetness.
When they work hard and get something back, it will be sweet.
When they get to work where they don’t freeze and blister, it will be sweet.
When they get to relax, it will be sweet.
When they get both something they want and something they need, it will be sweet.
When they come home, exhausted and weary, but having accomplished the day’s work, it will be sweet.
When they throw their heads on their pillows, it will be sweet.
When they stay up late, putting in their very best effort, and come home with a ribbon, it will be sweet.
When they give their all, and get something back, it will be sweet.
Because one day, they will jump and float, suspended momentarily, their fingers resting on the edge of their dreams, they will grab hold and bring their dreams close,
They will drink deeply of life, and appreciate the sweetness.

It's beautiful, he said.
Rain played its music on his thick, dark coat.
Look at this, it's beautiful.
The winds sprayed mist into his white hair.
He had seen her and it was beautiful.
He had seen her and danced with her.
He had to dance with her.
His thick lensed glasses fogged slightly.
They hadn't let it end, had they? he thought.
It was a beautiful darkness that she had fallen into.
One that froze their memories fresh in her mind.
He looked at the looming mountains in the distance, gray and gloomy with rain.
She had curled her short black hair on their wedding day.
They were in their church, in their city, and everything was how it was supposed to be.
Everything was still how it was supposed to be.
He had seen her blue eyes fade.
He felt her cold, pale hand.
He loved her.
It's just a beautiful day, he said.
Just a gorgeous day.

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

I walk out the window
Onto the rope
My feet bleed
But I can cope
I walk carefully
Then our eyes meet
As I watch the girl
Stare at me
Her amber eyes
Meet mine
And I almost lose balance
But I pick myself up
And just keep walking
Ignoring the girl
Like I did before

Living is a cross
That any one of the rock-faces
Comprehends.


We are drawn
To many seas.
We drown wholesomely
In the failures of confrontation.
The rain
Drenching
Our doorsteps
Has nothing to do
With the simplest desires
And lacerations
We bring
To the smallest acts
Of living.


The child
On the broken catwalk
Hearing the sounds of our hunger
Without understanding
Throws echoes back
To the earliest abandonments
Of love.


Minor devastations preceding
Horror
Resonate the ineffable.
The mothers that wake
At the slightest sound
And the fathers that
Smoke all night
And the rest of us who are
Vigilantes from the demons
Of oppressed sleep
Find at dawn the clearest
Images of bewilderment.
Even the best things
Collapse beneath the weight
Of ignorance.


Living is a fire
That any one of the wave-lashes
Comprehends.
___
Source:
http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml

They told me it was metal,
but I didn't believe a word.
But now I find it's iron
of the strongest, finest kind.
Ah! Here is my little bellows,
I think I'll melt it down.