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The one part of the meal that everyone enjoys.

It is versatile and complete.

By itself it may seem bland

but truly it is the backbone that deserves respect.

Creamy or garlicky or flavoured with paprika

Potatoes make the evening complete.

Leftover mashed potatoes never happens

in this household.

So calling yourself mashed potatoes

means you are loved.

Not everyone may appreciate you

but I certainly do.

(I normally don’t add the why behind the poem because I like to have it speak for itself. In this case, Kelsie Dolin, I want you to know how much I like all of you and I hope you go far on American Idol.)

I certainly don’t like you.

I obviously don’t love you.

I do not understand you.

I wonder if I should learn more about you?

I can not say I know you.

But hate you?

I can say I do not like you

but hate?

When does disliking someone

automatically turn into hating them?

I suppose war will do that to you.

Electricity brings illumination.

A light bulb represents ideas.

A flame brings hope in the dark.

A fire burns either you or everything else.

Yet, destruction brings new life.

A light sometimes is all one needs.

Philosophical terminology aside

When the sun rises

So does our eyes.

Typically uniform.

Unexpectedly coloured.

Green overlays blue

while red and black swirl

in a riotous pattern

of elegance.

Pink and orange

invite yellow to party

and everyone

takes the back seat

to purples

handclasp with gold.

The rainbow

really should include Puce.

The doughnuts have gone missing.

The thief must be around.

The bakery doors are closed.

No others are to be found.

I dare not laugh

For fear the white dust

Around my mouth

Tells more of the tale

Than I would like.

Calculated intensely

Still results in horrific actions.

The attrition of human life lost

Is not the best use reason.

Expected or unexpected casualties

Are always the innocent.

Why do those in charge

Think we must accept the fires?

Trust is broken repeatedly

And sometimes the decisions

Are all bad.

Thin line of essence

stretching out toward

Mind’s eye sees the destination

yet all I see is fear.

We all see them as less.

No one wants to see them.

Can you imagine their world?

Or do you ignore the fact

that you are counted among them?

We all say being different is great

but truly

how often do you celebrate that?

See them for who they are.

Look past you eyes

and turn that thought

“Well, just go and do it!”

into

“What do you need help with today?”

Filthy varmints.

Cute and clean pets.

Disease carriers.

Entertaining playmates.

Lab experiments.

Trainable characteristics.

Which do you prefer?

You or your rats?