life goes on all around me
people go by
strolling leisurely
with no awareness
that their free mobility
is a gift
something to be treasured
and i
i am pinned by my crooked back
to this chair
full of lifebut immobile

cars pass
people with destinations
I am here
wondering where they are all going
there is so much purpose in the world
so many places to be
so many things to do
so much busyness
what is it all for
I have forgotten
now I sit here
in the shade
on a lovely day
with a welcome breeze
coming in over my shoulder
and I am happy

my dark days are done
I am finished with all of my whining
most of my whining
I no longer sob every day
I no longer fear
for the most part
I am in a pleasant envelope
of my day to day
I recognize that happy
is not a place that I can be
forever
I have learned to make what I've got
worth it

for the most part

being happy where I am
no matter where that is
that's the trick
reality is a game
that I play with myself
I used to play so hard
so frantically
finally I have learned
that all I ever had to do
was declare myself the winner
and relax

I see temptation
and I look away
no forbidden fruit for me
except
wasn't it Adam's bite so long ago
that allowed me to recognize
that it was temptation
in the first place

so many faces
locked against
my casually prying eyes
they hold their true faces
for someone else
I guess openness
is too valuable
to wast on the many
it's better saved for the safe few
imagine what the world would be like
if we were all open
all the time
would every father love every father's child
too much to send them off to war

pumpkins on a wall
all standing in a row
facing Halloween
with no fear
brave pumpkins
I would not be so complacent
if I knew
I might be hollowed out
and carved into a mask
I would be afraid
but look at them
how they stand
so innocently

so many pills
13 in the morning
ten at night
to keep me sane
and healthy
what would've happened to me
in the not so distant past
before pills
would I be dead
or maimed
or in an institution
are they all necessary
I don't want to find out

it's harder today
this trying to write
trying to pull words down
from the clouds of empty thoughts
to fill the page
with what
more meaningless meanderings
about my boring life
why am I driven to do this
I wish I knew

another blank page
how daunting
another virgin
waiting to be enflowered
poems should be beautiful
so why do I call myself a poet
when I write so plainly
I fill many pages
but just with empty words
there is no beauty here
perhaps I'm just a fraud
just a sheep in wolf''s clothing

all of my poems
have the same message
I was here
find me

I am too expectant
maybe if I put my pen down
the words will come