Bless You

 .

.

.

BLESS YOU

.

.

What if we treated another person's anger or irritation

With us

Like them having a sneezing fit

And we kept saying "Bless You" to them

Until the hissy fit was over?

Of course, I mean to say "Bless you" silently

Only in your mind, while looking serious

Because it would be quite irritating

To have someone smiling benevolently and saying

"Bless you" while the angry person still has steam 

Coming from their overheated brain.

In fact, to keep in practice, we could silently say "Bless you"

To any number of people for any number 

Of things throughout our doo-da day

.

.

.

.

.

.

LOVE CON

 .

.

.

LOVE CON 

.

.

Sometimes you are handed a glossy pamphlet

Offering a romantic dinner

With candlelight and roses

On a vine covered balcony 

Under the intoxicating moonlight

While swelling music drifts in on a summer breeze

.

.

But once you have paid

In full

What you get is a prison sandwich

A thin slice of baloney

Between two slices of stale, nutritionless  bread

Served on a battered metal tray

Under a harsh bare bulb 

While people scream curses through the stale air

.

.

Do not believe the fancy words and glamorous photos

The promises and flattery, the con

Because what you are being handed

Is a bunch of baloney, not a banquet.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Wolverine

 .

.

.

WOLVERINE

If you found a wolverine in the wild

Caught in a leg hold trap

In great pain and dying

And you sedated it

Brought it home

Dressed the wounds

Tenderly fed and cared for

The wolverine

With great compassion

(Which is virtually indistinguishable from love)

Until the day the wolverine was healed

What would you have?

A pet? A grateful companion?

No, you would have a healthy wolverine

Ready and eager to get back to doing wolverine things

Which do not include you

The only realistic outcome would be to set it free

Let it go back

To the risky wolverine lifestyle

Your repayment is not aquiring an exotic pet

No, your repayment is the knowledge that you have saved a wolverine

From suffering and death that one time

You helped a wolverine regain their freedom

To go on without you

Your repayment is watching it disappear

Into the woods

.

.

.

.

.

SPIN

 .

.

.

SPIN

.

.

When the merry-go-round isn't merry

When the carousel horses turn scary

When again and again

You recycle your pain

And you end up being treated unfairly

.

.

How can you get off this ride?

First get off the fake horse you're astride

It is going nowhere

It's just a trap and a snare

You can see this when you are clear-eyed

.

.

At first the merry-go-round looked like fun

Joy and laughter when it had begun

But now it is played

So don't be afraid

To stop the music and declare yourself done 

.

.

.

.

.

.

ACHILLES ZONE

 .

.

.

THE ACHILLES ZONE

Cars and trucks have a blind spot

Our visual fields have a blind spot too

(Althought our clever brains fill it in) 

Our internal perceptions have a blind spot also

We can sometimes see how others are oblivious

To what is glaringly obvious to their friends

I imagine others can see what is in my blind spot

As I can see what is in theirs

Blind spots

Like those sightless pale fish that live in a cave

Are very sensitive to light

They stay hidden from our sight

However, they are a vulnerablity

That can cause reoccuring issues

If the same dang problem shows up

Over and over, with minor variations

Realize you might be dealing with a Blind Spot

Become willing to lift the veil and take a little peek

At what we have been hiding from ourselves

.

.

.

.

.

NOW WHAT?

 .

.

.

NOW WHAT?

.

.

We develop coping skills

By coping

With the painful slings and arrows we can barely cope with

Right now

Our weak and feeble coping muscles

Grow stronger

Day by day as we go to the gym named

"Now What?"

To build strength and endurance

Resilient perseverance

By sheer necessity, effort and force

Of will

We grow together 

In discernment and wisdom

.

.

.

.

.

.

poem I wrote

 .

.

.

DWELLING IN THE NOW

.

.

Where are the folks who knew what the fox said?

Who danced the Macarena?

Swiveled a hoola-hoop on their hips, sent a Slinky

Down the stairs, smelled a Strawberry Shortcake doll for kicks?

Those folks have evolved, moved on, lost interest

Those things seem silly or quaint now, perhaps a vague nostalgia

When reminded of them

What about a failed relationship? Unfortunate investments?

That great plan that fell through? 

Can we evolve, move on, lose interest in those things?

Other things will come to take their place

If you let them

Nobody dwells on how disappointing life is without a pet rock

So, out with the old, in with the new

We are moving on, as individuals, as a society

Our dwelling is here now, where we currently live

Our thoughts must dwell on the journey today

Our past outdated interests are in a big imaginary junk drawer

With the troll dolls, the fidget spinners

Beanie babies and lethal lawn darts. 

.

.

.