The place of fear envelops here.
No way to tell, what’s coming
From the rear, or what’s ahead.
The smoking mirror is an illusion.
Sometimes I wonder where
Is truth in life? Where do the two
Intersect, when it really matters?
Lies confuse, swallow what’s real.
The lie I feel to be real, is
That which hangs around my neck,
When I gather in spaces,
Of those with like mindedness.
Bricks and mortar, or digital
Groups, it doesn’t matter.
Both are full of walls, constructed
Alike, to keep others out.
I am out, even if I am in.
I am not present, when the lies
Begin. I step out, of my own
Volition, when the air is thin.
I have no patience, for groups
Dividing, over fears of others,
Who do not threaten. Being
Unique is not a sin,
Without or within.
Yet, I find in my behavior,
The same judgment, of myself,
And those around me.
Perhaps, it is most true,
In those who are least comfortable
With themselves or others,
A state of being, most common.
And with the discomfort,
Comes a fear, a sense of
Vulnerability, to be devoured,
By the enemies that exist,
Even if those enemies are created,
In ones own mind alone,
For we also put up walls around
Ourselves, in order to protect,
Even if there is no need,
For we do not realize, sometimes,
Who is with and who is against, for
Those who put up walls,
Can be our greatest friends.
I hope I come to see, the company
That’s all around me, is the asset
Best to help me, my true family.
Heh be done just done
When it comes to finally
A groan erupts From my body
I cannot stand it Living in such silly
No soul, no mind, no sign
Of compassion or humanity.
I don’t know how long I can stand
The eruptions, ironic ceremonies,
Below the belt commentaries.
It really disappoints to hear and see
The squabbles and serenity
Depending on the night and day
Somebody even said it was the officer
Friendly being too friendly with a local
Lady whom he should have been taking to
The jail since the law from many ages ago
Enough about family so to speak to sing
Making the best of so many tragedies
Humph I gave it away could have been
Another’s story, perchance, nobody else
Could be as stupid as my family so loud
Circles to boxes no matter how mum
Being in a nice room with no clutter
Invite everyone have a party relax get
Used to it have a happy hut strife they’ve
Been there they had that slop
Incorporation meal trickle brick southern
Feet mall sick Alpha veteran could
Wooden shop elder Molly poll yack volt
Wall great delay ink toggle front good
Regal involuntary bug queen food ralk
Rude fought walk poison group biggest
Yack zoom green jack pink live happy
Leaving, coming, staying put.
Going around the long way
Is sometimes worth doing.
Taking time to look at the scenery,
Even if the scenery is
The latest road construction.
Look at the men.
See their faces.
Think about what it takes for them
To do an honest days work,
To put food on the table,
To pay the doctor bill,
For their sick child at home,
Who is not covered by insurance
Because her father’s employer
Doesn’t think it’s important enough
To provide benefits
For his employees.
And when he has finished
At that job, he goes home,
Takes a shower, and then goes
To his other job as a janitor
At a local private business,
Trying to be friendly and polite
To all the employees
As they leave their only job
To go home to rest
And spend time with their families,
While he is just beginning
Of emptying trash cans
And mopping floors.
Sometimes life just isn’t fair.
Sometimes people float into
Our lives, and they stay a while.
You don’t know how long
They will be there.
Sometimes you become friends,
Due to common interests,
Or common experience.
And sometimes that friendship
Blooms into something more.
Sometimes you really care
About each other,
And sometimes, you fall in love.
From there, at least for a while,
Things sometimes go nicely,
But often, one or the other
Brings the sting of pain
Into the relationship.
And from there,
The relationship is tested.
Can the love withstand
The pain, or is there
Reason to break?
Such is the path,
That some tread lightly,
And some go through
Sometimes love is fickle,
And sometimes love
Turns into war.
One never knows
What to expect,
When one falls in love.
Carry on Tuesday #110