Close your eyes, it's all about you
The pain of losing a loved one is beyond words
Many responsibilities upon your shoulders
Hope and courage you'll have to share
To those loved ones whose heart need consoling
Need to have a heart of steel to outdone weakness
Paint smile to others to show encouragement
Whose cynosure eyes tend to show some mercy
There's more to look for tomorrow on what to do today
Knowing that the future holds for success
There's rearranging of priorities now than before
Plans need to push through or goals to make changes
There's more to tap shoulders and hands to hold for help
Bare heart needing for careful attention too
More time for healing to get on track on the road
Much more so is relationship to assess for good.
When he speaks
transparently
he feels co-passionate
as long as s/he appears
to vulnerably listen
Without Me v We risks
of retributive judgment,
body shaming
and mind blaming,
when he aims
to restore healthy cultures
and wealthy climates of peace
through win/win reassessment
Which may be why
music feels safer to sing
resonantly
when compassionate audiences dance
engaging pleasure's peak resilience
Co-empathic brilliance
of CommonSensed communion rituals
Wealth-enlightened minds
empowering health-embodied love stories
NaturalRoot/SpiritualCrown
wisdom recirculations
as old as
universal salvation
Anthro-passion cultures
unfolding/refolding
unitarian co-redemptive
Earth-pleasured body climates,
wealthy mindful singing
performance Now
within healthy bodies dancing
co-engagement Here
Receiving in
light's notations
while thrusting out
power's most sacred
invocations.
Some feel that Bible verse conclusively
Describes all life explained through liturgy.
Some feel that evolution holds the key
With science leading forth explicitly.
Positions juxtaposed perceptibly:
A purist view of Life's conformaties -
A prescient view of Life's complexities -
Could one more view assuage disparities?
What do papyrus texts in fact convey?
And, what does nature's yield expressly say?
Somewhere between these two compelling sides
The letter and the spirit both reside.
We take from texts enough to salve our minds,
And then from nature context-laden signs,
With each constrained by factors of its lot.
Questions for both - what is and what is not?
Yet, could these sides assemble what should be -
A pair of constancies through which we see
Two halves converging as to form the whole
Reach toward a common line that's not a goal?
This dictum for another day, but now
Enough for both conjointly to endow
A symbiotic sense of harmony
And hope - if our thoughts are inclined to be.
Truth be told,
Wise words used appropriately
Given down through the ages
Speak of truth, knowledge and wisdom.
Just like light shining through
Beveled glass reveals the
True colors of the prism,
So too will be the truth we see
When we heed the words
Of He who has Risen.
Reality checks and balances
Sarcastic speech
From mouths of fools
Who only seek to degrade
And destroy all that is good.
Putting pieces in their places
Wiping smugness from
Self-righteous faces.
Truth be told,
Mindsets need changing
Lives need rearranging
Morals and values need
Reassessment to avoid
Total conflict and resentment
Amongst one another.
Narrow is the lit pathway
With guidelines to follow but
To change course will lead to
A broader path of uncertainty.
Yet all in all one thing remains
The only way to the truth
Is through the light.
If you don’t want to be left
You have to get right.
Truth be told.
©1/6/20 JJS
If you quit, they will take your investments?
they think you’re past your prime?
They’re ruthless? Let’s do a reassessment.
Once upon a time…
Used to be, you would wake up full of pep
You’d race up the stairs and not miss a step.
Now your boss is obstinate, demanding?
Buddy, this is NOW!
Let’s see how he processes grandstanding.
Stage a cat’s meow.
Exaggerate, dress like an old grandpa;
Attract attention with a big hoopla.
Make this grand announcement: “Retirement’s
written on the wall,
due to unreasonable requirements.
How I hate shortfalls.
But could departure be an advantage?
Let’s talk about my severance package.”
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Daydreaming? You are running late again.
Master of your fate, get to work, my friend.
August 12, 2019
for contest COLLABORATION (Play with Me) sponsored by Line Gauthier"
inspired by some of his lines from her poem, Face It.
If we did not own Boko, he will not be born amongst us. Aliens can only come and
go, like a disease, when treated it disappears for good, yet Boko dwells for he is at
home. Boko can only survive for it is same, only a different shade from us who sit in
the comfort of supreme offices to rob people of their entitlement and compel them
to die from deprivation. They that die from this process are not known so it does not
matter for righteousness cannot be lost that way. Guns and bombs are not needed
because the pen is mightier. Killing millions in a pen swipe; and we remain in the
majority, them that strive to pull down a neighbor, with capacity to envy and destroy
at will even with rancid tongues. It is just the time to stop and think, Boko is a call for
reassessment of self if only we can listen and learn rather than sustaining careless
chants to achieve destruction. Good can result from evil if we care.
Created but consuming author
Saturation point attained
Revolution
I must call everything into question
now that you’ve smugly done your one-eighty,
mistrust your most innocent suggestion,
and find your lightest of motives weighty.
I see in a new and much harsher light
that what I took for truth was just an act,
and I must review with improved hindsight
what once I blindly accepted as fact.
I don’t blame myself for naiveté.
In fact, I’m proud of my guileless trust.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I don’t expect you to feel guilt. It’s just
my measure of you needn’t be reversed,
if you’d been honest with me from the first.
In all the wars
We fought for the side
That did not fight for us
Showing glad bravado in the fray
And we died
In the frantic sorrow of friends ...
Where morality has no answer
For it, the tragedy of all our life
Is not where we belong
Or which side of the fence
We climb down to fight
But what did we own?
What was right
Or any gift at all ...
For even to eat in a public space
We were made to crawl
Until our backs could take no more
Up against the silence of the wall
One woman stood ... a woman
Mothered our courage to march
Into self immolation
And claim a sliver of history.
For the birth of that determination
We have a title to nothing else
Except hope
An ever enduring faith in something
Possible beyond ourselves
It is the legacy of a dream ...
Not the wasting years of wars.
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