I’ve noticed within you
dormant dark ironic
aroused by stress,
fueled with fear,
ushers in you a strife
emblazoned with virulent rancor,
etched with vitriol and venomous
words more harmful than
of your frantic painful sputum.
like a cornered dog
or captured snake seeking vengeance
without sense of reason, cause, or goal,
neither coherent illumination nor purpose
tempers or dulls your slashing fangs.
Let lost conscience be not your guide,
nor grief and guilt become your
Count to ten. Then count again.
Nothing can be unsaid,
unheard, or unfelt.
Look both ways when emotions rise.
Seek the mindful gaps of calmness and search for love.
House lights were off, back in the day.
A tinted eerie black and white glare,
as the boob-tube illuminated
white nicotine-laced clouds,
cigarette smoke from lit ends of
Camels or Pall Malls, unfiltered butts crowded
many ashtrays, back in the day.
Like ghosts sucked into dying lungs
of people I loved,
alive, back in the day.
The smelly, wispy, floating clouds
rolled and twisted or waved
as we passed through,
back in the day.
Forbidden addictions, I then, not yet
old enough to kill myself,
back in the day.
Second hand was for used,
plus all who breathed in,
nicotine laced habits, back in the day.
Born into our rite of passage.
Now sick and dying, smoking goes on.
Never allow science to invade
We’ve always done it this way.
Back in the day.
Look both ways but stay away from back in the day.
Discover progress through science but mind the gaps to fill as we learn.
Secrets we’ve never been told Oceans nature never fully filled Memories of loving happiness in eyes of laughter Nights kissing when we’re young together Amour aplenty to fill our hearts with passion. Mysteries make us wonder why Bodies, then so young and strong, a Universe without chaos, and a cosmos within us Lasting love that never leaves us Innocent children who needlessly die, while Some just pray and wonder why. Time to take the dance into the street.
In the street, look both ways and be aware, or woke, as they say.
Mind the gaps as hidden happiness and sadness.
Work through it, he said,
more pain is good gain.
Can you go farther?
(implying the pain
I should endure)
To do more?
Through it, he said. I asked.
“I understand, Doc,
but do you?” Push
through — more pain—
limping, then numbness
pain, then physical collapse.
Then I sense some gain.
Then more. Must I now confess
at the end of the battle?
Doc, you were right.
Muscles are tight
and sore as hell,
with pain and cramps,
but improvement costs,
some weight’s been tossed.
Should I go on, and on?
Pain goes both ways, some is beneficial, some is a warning to stop.
I Listen to, and learn, my body. I mind the gaps to learn the differences.