Bring them flowers
and set them down,
and arrange them neatly
in their vases or pots,
in their areas
or fenced off plots.
Look and deeply consider,
that you too will lie
beneath grass and sod
and tombstone or cross,
ashes to ashes
or in the arms of God.
Look about you see
how the graves stretch
as far as the eyes can see;
names of so and so
deeply loved always
remembered deeply missed;
yet decades later
only the wind and sun
to touch the faded name
and that alone to be kissed.
There are people
Who are quite unequal
Who live in unknown worlds
With minds unfurled
Unequal, but not less
But unable to say "no" or "yes"
As we take for granted
As helpless seeds that were planted;
We can verbalize our pain
And not be thought; quite insane
when it already hurts
And words will not assert
We could be more grateful
More modestly thankful
For the meaning we can share
With no unwelcome stare
For all of our "advantages"
And "law" of averages
for me there is no excuse
When, for some there really is no use
This one is for you, from me,
I still vividly remember your first touch,
I still remember how the first time when you poured yourself out to me,
It’s like you had resided in each & every pore of mine,
You had coloured me with your pale colour,
What a whirlwind romance of ours was!
I can’t even think about the times when I was without you,
I was being contained,
My whole existence being reduced to a mere cube,
Then you come around,
Filling me with your sweetness,
Holding me, twirling along with me,
You don’t know how overwhelmingly nice it was,
If only I could put it into words
How you have completed me,
If only I could tell you how you have made me spin for you,
Before you, I was still
& now I rush for you,
My honey, now, I rush to you,
If only you had an idea how you have changed me,
I accept not all the times are perfect for us,
We might not mix that well together,
But I want to know you as well as the blood knows its way in the veins,
Not have you stuck on the roof of the mouth like peanut butter,
Because I know how white I was with fear when I was surviving all lonely in this world,
Let’s just say I have grown used to your embrace to go back to that old tasteless life of mine,
Here’s to me saying what I might’ve said to you over & over again,
I love you, honey.
Has their ever been an original thought?
I swear everything I say
Has either been broken, stolen, or bought.
And I rot with the shame of it,
Feeling I falsely carve in my name.
I’m trying to find the right path
On the road to fame,
Citing a hundred-plus peeps a day,
Though on the real,
They’re just the ones I can name.
Because in this game,
These bouncing balls just bounce on back,
My eyes are bouncing,
I’ll get the knack.
The frame constructed
Of things to come,
My vision obstructed,
Well, isn’t this fun?
I never feel that I am productive.
Not productive enough.
Change the world somehow, everyday.
Those are my standards and I have never met them.
So I have to sit with myself every night.
Feeling disappointment and self loathing.
"You didn't do anything great today,"
a voice taunts me.
"Why are you even here if you don't contribute."
But what is contribution really?
Can't it be small?
It has to be small because I can't make it big.
I have to learn to appreciate my small self.
If I make someone smile,
if I write a poem,
if I walk the dogs,
why can't those things count?
I have to learn to count them
because they are all I have.
I can't be great but I can be good in small ways
and who knows, maybe they will add up to great someday.