A holiday looms An extra day off For some people But not as many as should be And never enough And some are content with the way things are While others are certainly not And have started their celebrations early
I, too, use a shovel, but not for that, as might well be understood. Photo by Kateryna Babaieva on Pexels.com
Who can blame them Really As would not do the same Had they not thought of it in time?
But that I do not blame them Does note mean I am not struggling Making sure my work gets done And some of theirs When they are not here
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The people coming up now are doing the best they can with what they have And if they react differently than I did Their situation is different than mine was And they did not start where I did Where they could see what I saw And bask in a light that has been dimmed or switched off
It’s a different look. Photo by Alizee Marchand on Pexels.com
The people who went before were doing the best they could with what they had And if they reacted differently than I do Their situation was different than mine was And they did not start where I did Where they could see what I saw Looking through windows that had not been built yet
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Some theaters have already opened their campaigns Begun training their personnel Laying in provisions Knowing an assault will come soon enough Hoping to be ready for it
Resolution is coming. Photo by Vladislav Murashko on Pexels.com
Others hope to delay the inevitable Put off until tomorrow Or until the days after What will most certainly come Even though they know The order of the seasons has been All upended and overthrown Preempted by the war we have been told For decades now Is ever ongoing
They are not wrong Strangely enough There is a war And it has been in progress But those who are waging it Are not those accused of doing so The WMDs are not where they were said to be Once again Nor should it be a surprise Given who keeps making the claims
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Just suck it up Put one foot in front of the other Press on ahead And choose to be happy They say Among many other things What’ve you got to be sad about Don’t you know they’re starving over there How would you like to live like they do If you can even call it living You’ve got a house and a car and a job You’ve got friends and a family You’ve got your health So stop complaining And smile a little Nobody wants to see you looking like that
You’d be prettier / more handsome if… Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
There’s not a lot of straw left to suck on And a lot of irony in telling someone to suck when You want them to think they’ve got it good
One foot falls in front of the other Yes But you can’t choose what’s not on the menu in most places And the ingredients have to be in stock no matter what you order If you want to be well served
That things are hard for other people in other places Is not a good thing No But that they have it bad doesn’t mean you have it good Despite what you do have Because you see what you don’t have And know you’re likely to need it soon
Nor yet should you have to smile Because your frown might show somebody something They don’t want to see Because it reminds them that Their own grin is nailed in place Hammered home by other tools And they don’t want to be the only ones Hit in the face
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In my opinion Great men have always stood on the shoulders of giants Since the beginning of time It is my belief that The dictionary defines the term as It was a dark and stormy night Everybody understands that Sometimes things are the way they are because There are three things to remember here Coming from an underprivileged background In this essay, I will prove All of these people were wrong
Bane and boon in one? Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com
In conclusion Cartago delenda est And they all lived happily ever after And there will need to be nothing else said about the topic
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Flipping through the book again– I’ve read it before So many times before– Deepening the stain on the fore edge Widening the aging stripe that shows where My thumb has peeled the leaves back Searching for something seen once and dimly remembered So that I can correct the citation
Legs pumping again Feet flapping down flatly to the pavement Radiating back the heat it took in Under the staring sun
I don’t make it look so nice as that. Photo by Maarten van den Heuvel on Pexels.com
Someday the race will end But it is not now Though pushing forward jiggling pillars Exhausts
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Many ask What’s the point Why bury meaning between the lines And cover it with soil and shit When simply saying what you mean Is so much better Faster Easier And it’s not like anyone gives a damn Anyway
Sure. Why not? Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on Pexels.com
So much may be true Of course It does seem that people don’t much care Turn away from what might make them work a little Because they work hard all day Anyway And it’s nice not to have to work so hard At every damned thing
But And there is a but There’s always a but What is on the surface washes away While the ore and oil and other things Devoutly desired and deemed fit for use Must be dug out from deep within And the faces of mountains weather away in time With only the strongest stone standing to face the staring sun
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Someone’s pants are growing tight Even though they’re eating right And exercising every night
Decidedly not the pants in question Photo by Hebert Santos on Pexels.com
It’s not because they eat too much Nor that they need a surgeon’s touch Nor from a chair’s comfortable clutch
Their hatband binds in just that way Their pants constrain more every day The swelling, see, does not delay
What, then, can cause this kind of thing Of which no few singers sing And which too many seek to bring Upon themselves?
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Sprawled out on the couch Belt undone and pants unbuttoned in Summer sunlight sneaking in between the curtains Where the cat had moved them sticking its head out to look at Birds hopping across the rocks until they grew too hot And flittering into the browning branches One hand fallen on the heart Breathing in and out in quiet peace
I don’t look nearly so good. Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com
There is a peace in a quiet time After the tacos have been eaten and Cups of coffee drunk Washing away the cares of the world for a while Baptism performed by no clergy But ministry of self to self Following no order of worship but Soothing the soul no less for that
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Elliott RWI 