Start with self.
The others can wait.

Thoughts are just passing clouds for which to meditate.
Observe the world as the observer, not the taker or receiver.

Judges are for benches. Do not sit alone.
   Stand and walk into the songs of birds.
   Free within your self called home.

You discriminated against me my whole life.
Good luck being discriminated against in Hell forever.

I know. It can be scary to feel.
You either feel too much or nothing at all.
Or even worse, you feel you've hit the bottom
so many times you stop being afraid of the fall. Maybe you're already there,
and you decide to take a look around.
You start to feel safe.
Because you fear you'll be judged
if you are ever found.
Judged for falling when people thought
they were picking you up.
Judged for staying at the bottom just because you were "stuck in a rut."
And these fears are valid.
These fears may come true.
But these judgements will come
from people who love you.
I know it might not be clear
what I'm trying to say, so here it is:
it's okay to be afraid.
But if no one knows there's a problem,
they'll never be able to help show you the way.

In this remote and cold world
Peter and his beautiful wife, Pearl
lived alone, most on their own, together
Pearl loved Peter with her life
she was an honourable wife
till death, did do them apart, forever

Every morning before the sun
she’d rise up and she would come  
and kneel at his feet by the bed
She’d roll on his warm sock
put on his slippers, in her smock
every day, since the day they had wed

All her friends knew of her love
mocking, laughed, “it’s enough!
thinking, he treated her like a slave
But it was only then, when he died
that they all stopped and sighed
realising just exactly what he’d gave

for every night when they’d sleep
he pulled up the blanket to keep
her face warm and little nose
for poor Peter was taller
and the covers were shorter
exposing his feet and freezing his toes

I  have five fingers
Raised in my defence
You accept my surrender
We shake, without offence
Till, I point with my index
Raise my thumb for a gun
Curl three fingers back
Tucked into my palm
“Bang! …Bang! You shot me
A simple twist of my wrist
You aim it back at me
A hand gun for a fist

A thumb flicks repetitive across the screen.
Scrolling.
Images of faces, targeted ads and mundane art.

A random couple standing on the beach.
I pause for them.

His toad like appearance distorts my face,
One nostril scrunching up in displeasure at the belly that sticks out rounding into his chest so you can’t tell where his torso starts and ends, while a pair of swim trunks desperately attempt to cling to a skeletal waist.

Her body is normal aside from the concave stomach and the ***** that had clearly been poked at, flayed away, reshaped into an over exaggerated spherical shape.

Two figures clearly trying and failing to force their bodies to reject their aging fate, but they succeed in looking less human, and more like that of distorted dreams. Their skin is too dark, slicked up with oil, and all I can think of is when leather for skin became fashionable.

Their bodies are theirs to do as they please, but this new species of seal takes away the beauty of the water kissing the shore and I find the thought of these distorted figures mar my vision of the beach into a sour taste.

I can only assume its attention they want with the transaction they made: her youth for his money.
So tell me, is it not within my right to judge?
Is it?

I scold myself for being quick to judge with my eyes
though I cannot find myself to be sorry;
For they have clearly invested in their outwardly appearance.
For the sake of themselves or others who is to say?
But they parade through sand exposed, out on display.

I picked a grape, from a cluster at a deli
you know…to sneak a taste before I buy
A lady scorned, “yuck, ain’t that dusty?”,
and ******* her face like I was going to die

“Hey, what’s up?”I said “I gave it a rub
and I’m not going to buy unless I try,
a lick with my lips, is as good as a scrub”,
and I gave her a wink of my eye

But she wasn’t impressed by my address
and was weirded out by what I meant
She quickly called the police for my arrest
and accused me of sensual harassment

When the police arrived at the crime
I quickly swallowed the pips
For a pinch of a grape, I’m paying no fine
no matter what she claims I did with my lips