lord knows i’ve my share of pain ’bout the same as other folks i suspect so there’s no need for me to list for you what ain’t right you’d just pull out a checkbox list of yours marking off what we share and when we’d compare you might be worse off than me so you see ain’t nothing more for me to say ‘cept i be keeping on
not much
to
look at
a struggling plant
in
a plastic
abandoned pot
but
i’d argue
it’s
a thing
of
beauty
for
that little sprig
signifies
resilience
and hope
and
maybe
just maybe
we’ll
be able
to engender
the same
characteristics
in
our lives
wrapped
in a blanket
of
self-pity
an old man
struggled to roll
his wheelchair
through
the grounds
of
a hawaiian garden
his discontent
blinded him
to
all the beauty
around him
beside
one small path
there was
an ancient grave
undisturbed
by
vacationers
or
world progress
with
an inscription
that
simply read
be happy with what
you
can do
life’s tragedies weigh
differently for each of us
though the same crises
the strength to rise above them
comes not only from ourselves
but from those we choose to lean on
club’s
well short
of
a quorum
just
a few old jazzers
with
hearts
pulsating
to
piano notes
no one
but
the musicians
on
stage
seems
to notice
the lack
of
patrons
all that matters
to
the old jazzers
is
the music
the antidote
to
the world outside
it’s
been that way
forever
it seems
music
counteracting
the poison
of
the world
releasing
a flood
of
sweet memories
with
just
a few chords
and
notes
there’s an unevenness to life causing our unsteady gait as we travel through our lifetime oh we can map out the smallest details but nothing ever goes as planned the terrain changes around us as if manipulated by some unseen force or perhaps random quakes from the earth beneath us the cause really doesn’t matter just how one regains their footing
morning routines
briefly
suspended
fragments
of the bomb
ripped away
the thin shell
of
normalcy
around
the market stalls
crews
quickly moved
to
clear
what
hate
had left
in its wake
after
the sirens
and
screams
came
moans of grief
then
the call to prayer
with
its unified moans
of
thanks
to allah
and
throughout
it all
the fly catchers
of
baghdad
had continued
to soar
seeking
food
for
their young
Read Between the Minds 