Being Selves-ish

Ego is not the enemy,

it simply needs some control,

like willpower, which

is not a weak force,

like addiction or love.

Nor are neither the culprits

caught in circumstance, tagged It

in the blame game,

standing in the way of wind,

struck ill, accursed, vexed and falling plagued

to indecision, which is not

Doing anything

for them-selves

like self-immersion or suffocation

in one’s self-doubt, like insecurity,

self-consciousness,

like paranoia and conspiracy

under-lying self-sacrifice…

We are not safe with our selves.

Image of painting by James Sant [Public domain], Courage, Anxiety Despair (c. 1850) via Wikimedia Commons.

In the company of strangers

I thought...
Perhaps she wasn't as lonely
as she thought she was...

Perhaps she wasn't able to see
the difference between wanting
to be thought about
and thinking she was wanted...

She was perhaps mistaking
that forgotten feeling
for need...

I thought
being alone
this long, intentionally
she would see, she shows me
her life had been precisely the way
she wanted
it to be, in gratitude for solitude...

I thought wrong
she said she wanted a man
more than she could stand
since she had not planned
for the golden years
or for the gold she knew
she was due...

She was sure
after all those silver lined years
she still had insecure fears
and had forgotten all about
how much
she thinks of herself,
and what she wants.
She is all she will ever need...

A lone she
in a crowd of couples.


Image by Jurij Šubic [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

(In)Security

Who are the meek

Who only see the bleak

Whom we are told

as they shrink old

shall be heirs to the Earth

but do not know its worth

Whose silence is golden

with footprints heavy and beholden

waver their doubts

while their inner voice shouts

snickers and sneers

when gathered amongst peers

self-doubt casts out

the need to belong

Whom are all wrong

Who are posed in preposition

hanging in there by a thread

breathing in the toxic air of dread

hearing the loudest voice

falling for the fallacies

Who makes the choice

to glance in the mirror

projecting prisms of fear

Who do not see the good

Who have misunderstood

the value of life and self-worth

were gifts given to us at birth

which grows interest

in those whom feel most blest

doubt is a dump

a fetid hump

an intrusive and destructive

conniving ally-bearer

of the blinding white lie

twisted tongues tell tales

but the proud prevails

Whose sacred truths

are not spent on the youths

Who hide among the flock

afraid to step aside and walk

to the beat of ones own drum

waiting for confidence to come

Who is just a heartbeat away

unafraid to speak up and say

I wouldn't want me any other way.

Photo (Public Domain) By Vinc3PaulS (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons