.
I have seen ghosts move in long caustic sun,
On shuffled feet, they trod through heavy airs
With eyes blanketed from all that lives growing,
Who knows how far they shall run as they walk,
Dumb before light, shimmers of grace, of flower,
The chalk in their veins flows black under moon,
To speak is to lye, river beds dry, draining forever,
And blood, blue, salted only at the ended journey.
.

You say
please please
see me
see my soul
and see what I
can do
please see
me and say
that I am loveable
I won’t believe a word
but it will comfort me
briefly
I say please please
admire
my doing
even though I know
no matter how much
praise
I will get
it won’t help me
to believe
that any of it is true
I know this
but still
try to ignore it
a life long pattern
a pattern
that has shaped my life
it is difficult to change
it
the need for approval
is so great
it’s power so overwhelming
a force
that can not be stopped
easily
and so I seek false recognition
by the many ways
our culture allows me to
begging
for likes
like a billion
souls out there
trying to fill
a void
that seems
unbearable
having found no cure
I am only left with
posting these
words

The internet says (so it must be true)—
“A smile takes twenty muscles to produce.”
But whoever wrote that never met you—
My heart is the only muscle I use.

The internet says (so it must be true)—
“Bill Gates is giving his money away.”
But whoever wrote that never met you—
Since I found you I’m richer by the day.

The internet says (so it must be true)—
“Chocolate will be extinct by end of year.”
But whoever wrote that never met you—
Yours is a sweetness forever, sincere.

The internet says (so it must be true)—
“Click ‘like’ and Ellen will give you a car!”
But whoever wrote that never met you—
You have been my gift and my shining star.

The internet, it seems, has little true—
It’s likes and follows and asinine memes.
Nothing compares to the authentic you—
You’re my one true love made real from my dreams.

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Not in real way,
The way you can say,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
The outside you show,
Is not how you know,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Others may flatter,
It does not matter,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Not till we can see
Authenticity.
“That is who you are.”

When all else is gone,
When I can’t hear the song,
And I must close my eyes,
Something inside cries
“It’s me! I’m here!
In a place without fear,
I’m the voice of love,
Sweet as heaven above.
Love is me, the real me.”
Me. Really.

Virginia Giglio
February 2019

So this is what inspiration feels like:
When it's come time to take a hike,
And every fork is a new road to take
Every choice is another path to make
Every word is another leaf to rake
Every thought is free -
What a wonderful gift for me.

The mind is strong, so
No thoughts are wrong
Or out of place;
Fear bites no grace.

To those who choose just love:
Your light outshines the dove;
'Cos for all that you may know,
You still make room for worlds to grow.

I could sit and stare,
And bide my time;
Thoughts rip and tear,
And try to rhyme.

Somehow it seems so strange
That though we poets,
Filled with strands of gold or gray,
Can rarely find a way to say
What's truly on our minds;
We're too caught up in the blinds.

Perfection is a savage curse,
But self-rejection's even worse.

Maybe it's okay to be afraid;
You can't pick and choose what to feel;
Know your soul's not being weighed, so
Put pen to page and just be real.