you walked in without a warning
into this beautiful artist's life;
although a lot from her was missing
still she continues to strive.

into her life you left a consequential mark,
since then she has never been in the dark.
the smiles and the feeling of blissfulness
came to her life as a vital witness.

she got moonstrucked by you,
from gray her skies became blue.
her art that embodies her psyche,
is now dedicated to that laddie.

every color in her painting
is a momentous thing;
they represent every felt emotion,
as she gave you her affection.

every line that was drew
was all dedicated to you;
those were just mere hand-shiftings
as to you is where she is drifting.

every outputs she has made
were feelings she has bade
as a symbol of romance,
just as her hands did the dance.

i have holidays off at my new job.
no vacation for a year
or insurance
for six months.
i think
the work is fulfilling.
but if i get hurt, it'll be my fault, according to company policy.
i mean, i make it fulfilling
--to deal with the continuous,
hateful
and aggressive abjection--
punctuated
by climaxes
of
celebratory
prejudice.
political correctness  or explicit signs of empathy
are seen as the enemy. as problems.
anything organized or tidy is
"****** up."
i mean, my boss told me the other day,
"...like if I call you a ***, and you happen to be one,
you could just sue me! People are so sensitive nowadays...
My wife calls me a chauvinist, but I say i'm just old-fashioned."
young girls we pass in our company vehicle are called,
"Pre-*****."
East Asia is called
"Wonton";
and stereotypes are considered truisms.
ethnic slurs are the norm.
**** is a common,everyday
source of humor:
maple trees are called "Raples";
grapes are called "'g'-Rapes"
and small houses are called "****-Shacks."
a large kiln oven is called a "Jew-Oven."
glorifications of violence are welcomed with a smile
and the N-word is spoken with gleeful abandon.
if something is fixed poorly, it's "******-rigged" . . .
...they say they're not racist,
but perpetuate hate speech like it's a responsibility.
how am i growing to enjoy the company of such people?
to see any aspect of value here whatsoever?
what the **** kind of coward am i?
to allow this to pass without immediate and uncompromising opposition...
i must be dead inside
to trust my safety to such people
i say
i want to ***** my heart
and show them
how wrong and terrifying,
how hurtful their words are...
how i burn, impaled on stakes with each pronunciation of the word, "******."
rage shakes me awake at night
...though less and less...
as i understand the hate and fear,
the pain these men have lived with and seem unable to restrain
from spilling out;
as i begin to understand their conditioning
the origins of this inexcusable, ancient behavior
(or as i too become somewhat desensitized i fear)

but if i can see the potential for change in these earthlings,
i will go on hoping,
live happily amid hate
measuring with wide eyes the subtle shiftings
holding the intention of healing
of understanding
of presenting alternatives
of tolerance
compassion
and honest truths of self suffering
of other suffering
of self healing
and other healing
of self love
and other love

There's a certain Smell of Grain,
Summer evenings too
That consumes, like the water
of Rising Lagoons

Sweetened Grieving it gives us
No visible mark
But bittersweet shiftings,
Where Nostalgias are

All may feel it- Maybe-
Tis the Emblem Love-
Lovely Melancholy Moments
Scent upon the Sun

When it comes the Tree Leaves Quiet
Sweet Dinners at view
When it goes 'tis blinding quickly
Quiet feelings through