Poetry

Neurons fire.

All hands on deck.

Panic ensues.

Crashes keep happening.

Jump to conclusions.

Ones that may not be acceptable.

Not every day.

Perfection is not the key.

Consistency and presence.

Mindfulness that continues with productivity.

Do it as many times as you can.

Habits form when you try.

It benefits whomever decides.

Those who deal with the consequences are muted.

No say is given to the victims.

Those who say they deserved it know the truth.

Just like all the other lies spread by the ones who decide what is best for you and me.

The Hawk glides effortlessly overhead.

The song bird quiets.

The nest is hidden, safe.

The bathroom vent fan is plugged once again.

This year the eggs will not be blown out.

Instead maintenance will be called.

A Four way stop means you take turns.

A Merge means you share.

The yield is to caution you.

Stop means stop.

The road is has signs

and those signs help you to avoid accidents.

Listen to them.

Please.

There is no supposed to.

Should’s are banned.

If something needs to be done

The phrase is…. I want to do this.

It supersedes the guilt and I find myself still wanting to do the task.

Ratty.

Full of holes.

Ripped.

Torn.

Threads loose.

Smelly.

Dirty.

Still used.

The bed is made for dreaming.

Worrying.

Wandering.

Thinking.

Listening.

The mind floats

As the eyes begin to close

And the body rests.

Comfort is key.

Luxury a bonus.

Friendship vital.

Financially free.

Politics forbidden.

The world awaiting.

Just me and my thoughts, emotions calming.

Harmful ones we need to reject.

It is the helpful and balanced ones

that are hard to resume.

So how can I be a better poet

if I forget to write one every day.