Poetry

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.

Just being able to breathe.

Not knowing who I can choose.

Impulse Control would be handy.

Listening is not an option.

Ready to jump.

Nowhere to land.

You train.

Current methods.

Fresher preferences.

Updated models.

You get home

and the older version

just sits there

while you try to navigate it.

Maybe one day

you will figure it out.

Or just buy the latest copy.