viewing point…

viewing point

each of
life’s
travellers
pauses
to survey
the path
that
they’ve travelled
some marvel
that
they’ve survived
the climb
through rough terrain
full of hazards
and
hostile actions
but
they quickly turn
and
continue on
others
tarry there
when they look back
numb
and
unable to relinquish
the view
since the journey
has been
so easy
and
full of lovely scenes
and
moments
they wish to relive
so
they stand there
looking back
for the rest
of
their existence
others
linger there
overwhelmed
by
their painful journey
unable to separate
yesterday’s pain
from
tomorrow’s promise
so
they lie down
exhausted
choosing
to die
where they are

keep on keeping on…

keep on keeping on

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

 

 

some kind of how…

some kind of how2

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

often the beaten path…

often the beaten path...

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

antitoxin…

antitoxin

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

standing on shaky ground…

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