I’ve been chastised for writing poetry that was too angry.
I guess there is a lot of red in the world already,
why not spread some pleasant lilacs and a checked picnic blanket
and sit down for a while?
Why not quit thinking?
For just a moment?
Quit forcing the words to fall from our lips and
quit trying to speak over our friend,
Silence.
They have a lot to say.
Why not let them talk a minute?
Close our eyes.
Listen, smile, and nod.
No need to answer.
The quiet can tell when we’re paying attention,
and it meets us halfway with serenity.

I know all that emptiness
where the noise used to be
can get scary.
I know that all too well.
But it isn’t the Silence that tries to tear us apart.
They want to wrap us up in blankets of soft evening clouds
and remind us that not all is yet lost.

Look at me.
Let that sink in.
Not all is yet lost.

You're scared, I know.
Or at least, you're unsure.
And everyone tells you you should
Be unsteady and insecure.

They say that it'll be hard.
They say it will change you forever.
And that there's no way of avoiding it
No matter how smart or clever.

But the thing about scare tactics
Is they just plain don't work
And the way you handle this thing
Isn't like him or her.

You've got your own struggle
And your own piece of cake.
So to handle it like they did,
Is a solution that's fake.

So maybe you need an extra hour
Of sleep.
Or maybe your test score relates to
How many friends you keep.

Maybe you work best
Under pressure.
Or maybe it's order
That gives you true pleasure.

The advice that I'll give you is just
To be true.
And to do whatever the Hell
Helps you be you.
To ask for help if needed
And sometimes to struggle through.
To learn to know yourself
Through and through.

So maybe Friday nights a party.
Or maybe it's a book.
De-stress with some TV
Or learn how to cook.
And never worry about when someone says
How long that assignment took.
Because for you it may be shorter
Or take a few extra looks.

And don't you worry about what THEY got
On that test.
So long as you're working hard
To do YOUR best.

Don't say "He did it."
Dont think "She seems ahead."
That type of thinking will just
Fester in your head.

Because you've got what it takes
Or you wouldn't be here.
Though we all joke about it,
A few things are clear:

You aren't just lucky.
You did a few things right.
You showed them your stuff,
Put up a **** good fight.

So you've earned your place.
And no one can take it.
And I have no doubts in my mind
That you ALL can make it.

So maybe it will be hard,
And you'll probably change.
But never expect it to be like us
Because nothing is ever quite the same.

And you get to decide what tests you
And what your biggest enemies are.
Because living someone else's life
Won't get you very far.

But we're here for a few things,
Only one is this advice.
The others are the hard days
And the endless nights.

We're here for the heartbreak
And the tears that may fall
Though remember that we're also
Here for the happy phone calls.

We want to help pick you up
When you think that you're beat.
Because once you stand back up,
There's no way you won't succeed.

So maybe these words
Have been little use.
And maybe my generalities
Are a little obtuse.

But keep in mind
That my ears don't speak in rhyme.
And I promise you they at least
Have always got time.

I'm a call or text away
And I'm not the only one.
You've already got a family here,
And you've only just begun.

I love the idea of smoke,
the fumes clinging to my lungs
and the exasperated gasp to regain air.

The smoke that can burn down a home,
a place filled with memories to be ruined,
ashes of forgotten darkness.

A smoke that can be a sign,
a scream for help and danger.
A reassurance to others of your struggle.

I like your smoke,
the intoxication of your breath,
mixing with mine in a moment of relief.
Before the bitter after taste of realisation.

For nothing can bring me joy,
nothing more than smoke can make me suffer.

What have I done?
what's happening to me?
Am I diseased with
the sickness that's infiltrating
the whole nation

A nation of pill popping zombies
that has addicted itself
to the loophole
of "a pill for happiness"
"a pill for desensitization"
"a pill for nerves"
"a pill for life"?

Why have we become a generation of junkies
whose drug is legal
inflicted on us
but degree holding powers
because "they know better"?

Is it normal for humans like me and you
who feel
who see
who taste
who hear
who smell
to be controlled by a singular button
to be confined to a manifesto
of the "latest trend"

Are we all hypnotized
into morphing into the
"perfect body"
"10 ways to get smarter"
"look like this, don't eat"
is it a blueprint set by a superpower
to transform us to identical robots
to make it easier to control us?

Are we slowly walking down the path
of being identical?
Are we losing the only essence of what makes us human?
Are removing our imperfections
and surgically implanting
"my lips should be like this"
"my thigh gap is a must"
"my brain should have a set of guidelines"

What has become of us?
I pity the fish that
flow with the current
I cry over the youth today
I mourn the artists
of yesteryears
I grieve with the widowers
of lost souls

There's still hope
or so I try to believe
and encourage
the dying breed
of
perfectionists
the humble ones
those whose kisses only
land on lips
and not
*****

I wept by your side,
But you were much too worried about yourself to take note of it.
I didn't want you to notice because I knew you wouldn't care.
That made me weep more.

You ask if my thoughts are balanced,
I reply with a smile that, "I'm doing okay".
You're not satisfied with the answer,
But yet you move on.

When I'm staring at a plaster wall, for moment after moment with no movement, you watch me.
 I feel that it's my lost eyes with an empty expression that you're trying to read.
I slowly and inconspicuously begin to scroll through my head, for positive emotions to display on my face.

I'd love to let you know what I'm chewing over in my head
But you wouldn't want that burden.
Our taste has always been different.

So I'll sit in silence,
and when you think I'm tired 
Because of my swollen eye lids and blood shot eyes,
It's really because I wept by your side.

There are those who are more enamoured
of dreams than reality
wherein lie their secret longings
cradled in imagination and fantasy--

to be in love with someone they had never met
to surrender to a face, a smile, a kiss,  a moment of ecstasy
beyond the pale of insipid daily living--
far transcending every earthly beauty.

MAY LOVE FILL YOUR HEART
AND JOY FILL YOUR DAY
HERE"S WISHING YOU HAVE
A HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Hope you have a lovely lovely day