hand-eye (Hi-Q)

Helpless is not-for 

All Beings in need, a hand

points, name, friend or foe. 

Painting by Parmigianino, 'Portrait of Fransesco Mazzola' 16th century in [Public domain].

Financial Sense Ability

Accountants and Universities
all too often
                     forget             
that they provide a service

apart
         from guarding the gold
the service would be of no use
had not the need to know

arose
          and smelled like a rat.




Painting by Thomas Eakins, 'Professor Benjamin Howard' c. 1874 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The halve of it

It came down to haves and have nots

and the haves had great supply of have nots

while the have nots knew their supply of haves was limited by what they had not.

It was not so great they knew not what they had, the haves had this instead.

And so, the haves always have more than not, but would say

Of course, what they have is never enough until they have

All there is to have.

Not that the have nots needed more than they had. They did not,

having not had any more than before,

and all the have’s had much more of all of it, so the have nots thought,

they have left none of it to have for them, the have nots know not

what it is, the haves have to have it.

Needing more than they have always more than now,

while the have nots are needing to halve

more than their fair share.

It was never even, or even

fair, never

to compare

halves as a whole and

have nots

at all.

Image from/credit By The Lucy Show (eBay front back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

You take the Wagon, I'll Walk

Call it a compulsion, some do.
A dependence, that's a little strong
for a need that's called a want.
Can't help it, I'm not in control,
something takes over me,
its always right there-I could...
and all these have me consumed.
Obsessed, I don't see it that way,
but others do, see signs, like theirs-
the jaw gives it away.

The blame game is fun too,
it must be that the jeans are too tight.
Sometimes breathing is the hardest thing to do.
If you try to quit, I know desperation, infatuation,
give you a raise you can't refuse.

Stimuli, it is called physiological.
Personality, is embedded, biological, maybe...
and might there be other habituals and rituals
toxic but not intoxicating-tolerance is discouraged.

I don't deny my own flesh and blood
has been sacrificed for my own cause.
It's my body, self-satisfaction and
distractions from your dutiful employment
as a clean-coming human whose sobriety
is always a right when given a choice of
life with poetry, its pain and withdrawal
or an existence without the possibility of significance.

Since its all in my head,
any-which-way,
and there's no shortage of excuses-
I will wrestle with these wily words,
wanting more, needing a fix, hating myself,
hiding and using, manipulating and placating
going broke, being ostracized and advised
until there is no more poetry left anywhere-
or I'll likely overdose on what I've said.





Image of painting by Arthur Nikutowski, The broken wagon, 1852 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.