Just a thought, Just Because – Read Between the Points

• Life comes with different moments
  that are inconsistent with truth, time
  or sanity.
  Yet, life unfolds in moments,
  like heartbeats that pound out-loud,
  like a lump in your throat
  when the suspense is too thick

Life can be like looking down the barrel of a gun
sometimes . . .
the villain is bearing down,
looking to take the shot.

They call these little inconsistencies, “part of life,”
or they’ll tell you that hey, “shit happens!”
You know?
Maybe sometimes we forget our place on the stage
or maybe we forget
how we played a part in the ending scenes.
This is where we’re at where we’re at

Meanwhile, there’s always someone around
looking to tell you what to do.
There’s always someone
looking to give you advice
or there’s someone looking to tell you
Hey, everything happens for a reason
as if they’re Einstein on this one . . .

Meanwhile, it’s not them in the pocket.
It’s not them with their head on the chopping block.
It’s not their heart that you’re wearing on your sleeve. 

Not everyone knows
about the noise of slamming doors
or caged rooms or the echoes in the corridors.
Not everyone knows about the same bruises.
They don’t know about the scars
They don’t have the same background
(or the same fears)
Nor do they know about the rebirth of life
or the remedies of another chance,
say like,
even more than just the second one. 

We’ve had those too – you and me.
We’ve had a few second chances
and then some . . .

I dare to say it because it’s true.
We all have second chances.
And if by chance you fail to see this,
then perhaps you should realize this moment
which is here and happening right now.
This is another chance.
It’s another shot.
It’s another moment to make a move
because there is no back, there is no forwards;
there’s just the here and now
So, please
If you don’t mind the question –
what do you want to do with this?

~

I used to try to dress my voice
I wanted to sound cool
or to sound alike
or to sound as if I could say something so poignant,
so persuasive or so resounding
that I might sound as if I am someone
who people would listen to
(or love)

I have spent years trying to perfect my voice;
only to learn that maybe . . .
my voice was perfect to begin with.

It’s not me or you or the others in the world.
It is not up to the writer to meet the crowd.
It’s not about the critics, although . . .
You might not want to tell them because, of course,
they think everything is about them.

We spend so much time trying to please
that we lose sight of our truths
and thus, our intentions lose faith
and our inconsistencies become the norm.

We lose ourselves to the patterns of pleasing others
instead of pleasing ourselves.
We fall short on the list of priorities
especially when we’re at the bottom

~

I spent decades perfecting a rhythm
and trying to create a perfect sway,
a walk, a lean and a stride,
to act like a lion on the prowl
to be unmoved and uncaring of what stands in my way.
I’ve rehearsed my lean against the wall
like some newly-formed James Dean
to be cool and dig this,
I tried to make it seamless
so you couldn’t see my faults
or the cracks in my façade.

I spent decades trying to decorate truths
and dress myself in the “as if” stages;
as if I could be something else
or someone better
But in truth, I am this person
sitting before you
both afraid and daring
giving, hoping you take this from me
like a weary traveler, too tired from the road.

I am, in all truth,
this person.

I am the awkward stutter
which is gone now but inside,
I swear you can hear it.
I am an invisible scar
which I know you can see.

I am a tell, like a bad poker player.
No game face and, in the meantime,
I am waiting for the impending news
which may or may not be so devastating – but either way,
I am as the scripture foretells in Proverbs:
Man is what he thinketh
Therefore, this is me

Or as it says more accurately:
as he thinketh in his heart; so is he.
And me, I think with my heart.
I feel. I have desire.
I have wants and needs.
I am true. I am consistent.
I am a dream that blossoms in all directions

I am not swaying
nor quitting
nor will I allow myself to be “someone else”
or be deterred because yes, it’s true
I am what I thinketh

I am not a fool. I am not crazy . . .
I’m me.

Besides, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy
– it’s everyone else that’s out of their mind
And by the way, stupid people don’t think they’re stupid
No, they think they’re smart

I am learning . . .
this means my judgment of ‘self”
and my understanding is not misled
or misdiagnosed but only harsh –
because, in fairness, I just want more.

As for the fool,
Proverbs has another piece of advice for this –
Do not speak in the ears of a fool;
for they will despise the wisdom of your words.
So, don’t waste your time . . .

Life comes with different people
who are inconsistent with the truth.
Just because they have a spot on the team
or that have a title “above”
or a name with recognition,
this does not make anyone better than you –

Then again, we are who we thinketh
We are who we think we are –
for better or for worse, in sickness and in health,
for richer and for poorer,
persistently, consistently or otherwise,
until death do us part –

This is us

• I am no more a burden than I am a gift.
  I am neither nor either and, at the same time,
  I am a flower pushing through the bud and eager to blossom
  in a way that even I have yet to fathom

I am the light
I am the source
I am the spring and as for the sun,
She is my friend
She’s the one allowing me another chance
today . . .

And you, you are the wind that lifts my hair
You are the breeze that reminds me the world is still turning
You are the whisper that tells me I should be ready
that another chance is on its way
In fact, I think we call this the morning

I am no more a part of this than you
I am no better or worse
nor have I left
nor have I stopped
nor quit; but more,
I am part of this.
I am part of everything and you,
you are the part that reminds me not to worry –
because the sunrise is on its way.

So ante up, kid.
It’s your bet
It’s your turn to play the cards
So, don’t worry about what “they’re” holding
Just play your hand.

Besides . . .
The suspense is killing me