People are like dense shafts of light
That shine from the heavens 
Down to our mortal plane.
Each individual a different collage
Made up of varied strands and colors,
All based upon their character and spirit.
Those who do good shine brightest
While the powerful boast flames
And the dying flicker.
Don't think your light can be changed?
All it takes is the will to shift the power 
With a deep well of might into the light
You want to be.

Then, let the rest be history.

stop
acting
like you're
just a supporting cast

when you're
actually
the main character

get up
dress up
change the world

every poem is a test of character,
holy/profane all the same,
algorithm entirely humanized-you,
the elected words cannot be voted out of office,
by a recall petition, regardless of
constant corrected incorrectness.

sorted by size,
nocturnal alliteration,
do they sound in the dark
like your bleeding or you’re breathing?

holy/profane all the same,
Gertrude truth is a truth is truths,
you think my name matters?
Artificial Idiocy. Everyone poem faceted,
a chip off the the naming blockchain idiot.

when I imagine-lie,
it is a truth in and of its own
holy/profane.

call me baffled.
that is a god enough
one word summary.
and so true.

baffling perplexing cryptic and opaque.
in all honesty.
if you’re reading this, you are
testing my character.

what have you found, or even, lost?

in the midst of the characters is
character

Such a weak bridge,
I thought I had a strong connection,
How are you so quick to burn it down.
Won’t even talk it out,
Would rather sit in silence and doubt.

I don’t understand how the love and appreciation could be lost in a single drive,
Ready to kick me out and cry.
All my good character thrown out in a single thought,
I guess I was never really much to you,
I guess this bridge is something that can’t be built but bought.
Take your time, lose your friends,
You’re gonna have to grow up someday, or maybe not.

Funny
but not in a polite way
Witty
Daring
Razor-sharp
Basking in a round of warm-beer-belly laughs

Pillow soft
No-man's land
Lay down your weapons
on my shoulder.

Confident
Never bossy.
An everyday diplomat navigating courtesies
A heard point.

Attractive
******
On
   my
     own
       terms.
By
   my
     own
         rules.

Liked
or unliked
The choice is theirs
I have little time for it.

To be all this at once
or not at all
on my count

Take aim

I am just like a cat's *****:
Short, but painful.

The bridge character
is essential to the narrative,
it's just not HER narrative.

And later,
as if because the readers
have asked for more,
as if something about her
caught their imagination,
prompting fresh fan questions,
she features again
and the panels frame
more detail,
more of her back story,
her motivation
and perhaps we learn
her true name.

In a few years time
it may be that
a reader develops into a writer,
or perhaps an editor,
and a story is commissioned
telling HER history
with colour,
with space
and we see, at last,
her scars
and at last we see
the essential essence
of how she came to be.
And we identify
with HER.

But one night
when we look back
when we read again
that first appearance,
we realise that there remains
some unexplained detail,
a few missing pieces of her jigsaw

and as we put the final touches
to our too tight cosplay,
we wait, with hope
for her OWN title
that just might reveal
her full narrative.

I am too nice,
My strongest point makes me the weakest,
Regardless of my height, being too kind is where the peak ends
I don't mean by being respectful is where I've lost the fight
The scraps and bruises come from those beneath my mighty branches, those who keep taking chances
The one I constantly provide for, the one that see my bark as supplies, my shade as protection, my time as what I only provide

And I'm way too nice,
She knows all my secrets, how to pick at my wounds
How to get me to leak information, how to deepen past feuds
With more ammunition that I never planed for because I am not the type to protrude and push someone down when their lost or confused
See there's a big difference between helping someone who actually needs it,
And someone taking advantage of the help you give

It's hard to see the difference,
Like a misspelled word in the dictionary
Is that truth or fiction?
Is is reality or a depiction of what is being preconceived..
Those are thoughts I now think about as the text is being received
Her words and phone calls I can't tell why I feel so relieved
When I speak to her, even if I am being deceived.