An Abundance of Love

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Each piece you hand out may never return. Giving it all away so freely, you must know dangers await. Without a string attached, it won’t know to return. How will you have more than what you’ve got, if you’re slapping it in the hand of every stranger that walks by?

Surely, you could take more care. Keep it closer. Dole it out, once worth has been assessed? It’ll all be gone and you’ll be left empty handed. Hollow-hearted. Weak and sad.

I keep all of mine in here. See? It’s just there. In that pile. Waiting. For the right time. The right one. The one that deserves it. Earned it. Needs it. I’ll be fine sitting here, watching you empty of your abundance.

Fine, go. All I need is just there. Under that layer of dust. Beneath the lost and lonely. Don’t worry, I know what to do. While you dump yours all over, I’ll have mine right here. Close and always waiting.

What are you fucking thinking? What are you fucking doing? Who the fuck do you think you are?

I don’t know.                 I don’t know.                Just lost.

Figure your shit out. There’s only one solution. Climb back on the crazy train. And hang on. You’re not going anywhere. You don’t know how.

I could figure it out.           I could stick up for me.

Please. You can’t. You don’t understand enough to argue. I’ll tell you what to do. You’ll do it. Because we all want the same thing. And that’s for me, I mean us, to be happy.

You don’t really care. You just want to secure me. Under your thumb. Shapeless. Faceless. Lost.

You’re ridiculous. I told you you didn’t get it. You’ve just validated my point.

Poem 3

For your unfettered consideration
and undoubtedly refined thought,
tell me how you interpret
all of these changes

that have come unexpected,
unannounced, and unwanted
into the lives of everyone
who manages to pay attention

and notice what wrongs have
been done, ignored, and
tragically encouraged with
the enthusiasm of

a two year-old child
and the recklessness of one
who knows nothing of struggle,
heartache, and loss.

Mighty 5 … in fifty minutes Workshop Margaret Pettis Poem 3: Goal to write on sentence (about 20 lines) that is one perfect sentence. Showing that I can control language syntactically, grammatically, logically. with 5 words per line.

Linda Pastan The New Dog that is one sentence that is grammatically perfect. See below.

The New Dog
Linda Pastan

Into the gravity of my life,
the serious ceremonies
of polish and paper
and pen, has come

this manic animal
whose innocent disruptions
make nonsense
of my old simplicities--

as if I needed him
to prove again that after
all the careful planning,
anything can happen.

You Never Learn

It won’t be the monsters you can see. It will be indiscernible, desiccating. So subtle, you notice too late; stuck in the pot that slowly boiled. With you too spent to escape.

It will be like you and me. Full of life and love and possibility. Full of promise and buried expectation. So much light, you’re certain nothing can be hidden, tucked away, shoved behind.

It won’t jump out or attack. It will slowly consume. You’ll look down and notice you’re gone.

Once again

Too quick to trust.
Too nice.
Too kind.

You never learn.