you say the cost of living keeps rising so people keep dying.
if that's true, then why should we bother trying?
growing up in small town usa,
the only opportunities for work are dangerous
and offer very little pay.
if you dont have thick skin,
you won't be able to make it through the day.
I need you to say that you believe I have a choice.
that you think people will listen to what i have to say
if i raise my voice.
I don't want to leave, but i know i can't stay.
if i want a chance to live, i'll need to live life my way

“It is our function as artists to make the spectator see the world our way not his.”   - Mark Rothko

From where does this doubt in my poetself come?
A neglectful or ignorant adult
or my alienated teenage years?
A therapist could better declare
all the stuff from my past that impaired
my image, security or sense of self
find the dark corners in my mental health.
So I’ll leave it to all the shrinks
to discover why I think what I think.

Why so reluctant to publish a book
or collection of my work
make a website known far and wide?
I still don’t know what that’s about
but I hate the damnable doubt
in my poetic abilities and skill
and loathe my comparisons to the greats
getting even close seems so uphill.

But that Rothko quote makes sense.
It frees me
and lets ME be.

I’m not forcing anyone to do anything my way
but when others read a poem of mine
they are invited into my mind
to take a piece of my heart
and see my world that moment of that day.
There is no force involved
it was their choice to read
and I’m grateful they took the time
to linger with my verse or rhyme.

I love that old Sinatra song My Way
it might have had a self-centered air,
but it was a courageous thing to declare.

I also give thanks for those brave enough
to post their poems in public
to reveal to strangers and self-disclose.
It IS like taking off your clothes
to let us see what’s underneath
and I thank the gods that be
for a momentary journey into those worlds
to try on the artist’s priceless pearls.

I remove my emotions, shut down my heart.
No longer allow life to trouble me because that’s how it all starts.

[I CLOSE MY EYES, THE COLD BLADE SLIDES CUTTING DEEP. WITH ONE SLICE EVERYTHING CHANGES]

Anxiety grips and takes control pulling everything down into this tiny black hole.
No use fighting just go with the flow.
You will rise again and go on with the show...

[THE BLOOD FILLS THE SPACE CREATED BY THE SCLICE. AT FIRST A TRICKLE AND THEN EBBING FURTHER AWAY FROM LIFE]

I place myself in this cage to preserve my life. From the outside I appear cruel and riddled with strife.

[I STARE AT THE RIVER OF RED. MY EYES START TO CLOSE, HEAVY EYES. MY MIND FEELS FREE]

I fight this battle every day.
My fight, my rules...
I will always find a way to win...

My cage is my way....

I live my life. I don't live yours.
I choose my set and dress my doors.
You'll disagree and share your thought.
You'll preach perhaps 'bout what I aught.

I'm glad you dare! I'll lend my ear
In hopes you'll share a new idea.
But if old rote truths are all you have,
I know them cold, don't waste your salve.

If that's the case, please save your breath.
Give me my stage, I'll play Macbeth.
Embrace your way? Perhaps I will.
Come truth what may but not until.

love
defeats me
you own me
no free will
you are my way