considering the new year…

you like all of us
will surely tumble and fall
that’s the easy part 
now here’s the difficult choice
lie there in self-pity or
pick yourself up off the ground

 

 

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

selective kindness…

when the misery
we see
is in eyes
that look
like
ours
our hearts
open up
and
we hear
there
but
for the grace of
that’s
when we
offer up
a small portion
of
self-pity
to another
such
self-centered behavior
no doubt
feels
good for a while
but
like
a child’s
out of sight
out
of mind
stage of development
the misery
is soon
forgotten

pauper prince…

and the day came
when the old man
received no gifts
to fulfill his needs
or
his desires
for all those things
had been granted
but he still moaned
and groaned
feeling sorry
for himself
while the pauper
outside his door
gave thanks
for a meager meal

 

 

viewfinders…

staring through pinholes
leads only to self-pity
when the view’s just you

 

slow dancing alone…

 

what do
shadows say
when
you
turn away
do they
speak
as
old friends
commenting
on
how you’ve changed
for
the best
or
do they just
recall
your cigarette smoke
mingling
among them
when
you stared
at
your empty bed
holding
another
glass of wine
the
promised
last one
to
help with your
suffering
and
self-pity
pity
shrouded
in tears
childish tears
but
do you
ever
wonder
what shadows
say

 

data merge…

do not confuse
this death
with
yours
tho
the two events
will merge
at some point in time
but
at that
point
the tears
shed
by others
will be for
the same reason
yours
are
shed now

one day i’m…

what is it
that
you’re
afraid of
does the fear
of rejection
hold your words
from the page
did that
teenage
chrysalis of fear
never open
leaving you
with your wings
tight to your side
while
clinging to a leafless branch
of dreams
encased
in your own
self-pity

while lost…

along this trail
a life
has passed
this way
the prints
are set deep
and the stride
is long
this person
knew where
they were going
and why
they did not
wander off the trail
like someone
seeking a purpose
nor did they
pause to look back
from where they’d been
they knew tomorrow
holds more
than yesterday’s
washed away dreams
no need to go back
over a trail
where the stream
of despair
has undercut
hope’s path
creating soft edges
of reality
where one might
stumble and fall
into a dark thicket
of self-pity
but if i
blindly follow
his steps
i would end my journey
facing his aspirations
not my own
so i must forge
a new trail
one that leads
to my vision
of tomorrow
and you
must do
the same

depression…

 

he without form
void of all emotions
sat in the darkness
of his room
gasping for breath
praying to a god
he had long abandoned
or abandoned him
expecting little
receiving less
his mind a fertile ground for doubt
too many faceless fears
whispering in his ears
spiralling his fragile thoughts
into the darkest realms of self-pity
where his dreams
wither in the sun of expectation
easily crushed and blown away
faith is but a shadow of smoke upon the wall
sensed but never felt
here
tears are his only true companion
he is buried beneath daily routines
and each day he thinks
the morning
and evening
were the first day