Naturist, skinny dipper
But never ****** waver;
Some of us are exhibitionists
A point I hope you savor.
I am into keeping clothing
Something more than minimal
But, I should not ever be
Thought of as a criminal.

After all, the same people
Who piously point to their Bible
Ignore that we are born ****
And every other word is libel.
It simply makes no sense
To impose laws on a poor sod
And then paint yourself with
Trappings of some ancient god.

I don’t take my clothes off
To discomfit you even a little
But your frothings-at-the-mouth
I regard as simply spittle.
I have never agreed with your
Mesopotamian mythology,
And I disagree with it all,
With no remorse or apology.

But bear this in mind, please
I resent you pushing on to me
A way of living that I feel
Is very uncomfortable to be.
I don’t ask you to be naked
If that is not right for you
But to tell me I must not
Is an offensive thing to do.

The idea that a tiniest bit
Of what is so honestly me
Is such a horrendous and
Disgusting thing for you to see
In a world of thongs and bikinis
And pushup padded wonder bras
Is a matter of gross hypocrisy
And to me, an ignoble cause.

My canvas is the same as yours
Just white, solid surface
Made to fill with shapes and patterns
Of varying sizes.

The only difference is that
You use more colors
To paint your truth
And I use more words
To paint mine.

Some of us got lucky
And found what makes us
Work
Some of us still wonder

But life is art
And we paint it with our tongues
And with our eyes and hands.

Don't argue with me anymore
About whose paintings
Are
Better.

I see a monster
It is eating spaghetti
It is a good thing

I'm glad that it does
Not eat me or my brother
He likes spaghetti

We asked him his name
And he grumbled intensely,
"I'm Mr. Monster!"

He always came in
After a quarter past ten
And raided our fridge.

Frederiksburgville Town
Didn't usually have monsters
But they had pasta

And so the monster
Told the little children things
About from where it came

And it sang a song
That was very short and long
And it went like this:

Gobbledegook gobbledeedee
Fricasha bulungo tirimasu wings!

The children sat stunned
It was a horrible song
You can't sing along.

How can I help my brother
When my own pain won't abate?
How can I lift my sister
When I can't move my own weight?
How can I feed the hungry
When I can't fill my own plate?
I help folk who feel guilty
Yet I can't clean my own slate...
Is there a way to move them
Through the vagaries of fate?

There are principles in life
Which always undergird
Many are the trials of life
I've only seen one-third
Sometimes we are captured
A sadly cag-ed bird
But one thing ALWAYS brightens days
Perhaps you may have heard
A smile that reaches to the eyes

And a KINDLY SPOKEN WORD.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/7/2016