Don't wear life.
For it clings to you from birth to death.
It's etched with tales of triumphs and woes. When it's on you, it entices you to dance with passion, embrace the strife,until we stumble down, to the silent ground.

An arbitrary hill, the worms crawl
To a vantage point to feel less small
A collection of sound-bites; "they know all"
A congregation so thick as to be a wall

Below-ground, a blind life in the dark
Subterranean legacy, light comes stark
No ocular appendages, just a warmth to lark
There are no ominous portents in which to hark

Under my boots, everyday I feel a squish
Hopes, dreams and the misguided wish
So many lines cast, not enough fish
We dine on one another's dish

And it hurts me everyday
To see #humanity in this way;
Tribalism; '**** the strays'
A self-induced fray

We are backwards
And we are wrong
Check your words
Before you sing a song

When a poet dies
people mostly
just feeĺ sad

When a poet dies
very few people
shed tears from
their eyes

They just lock away
the memory
of how the poet
made them feel
deep within the pith
of their heart

When a poet dies
few can stand to read
their words

The death a rapier
to their emotional
insights and all
their bywords

Rather they transend
the limits of their
boundries and we let
them rest in peace

on the surface
turmoil
almost madness

dig a little
dig a little deeper
that's it

calmness.