If

.

I

.

could

fuel

.

t

h

e

.

want

.

a

n

d

.

desire

behind

.

y

o

u

r

.

eyes,

–

–

would

.

y

o

u

.

forever

warm

.

m

y

.

life,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

the

sunrise

.

o

f

.

your

smile ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ would

.

y

o

u

.

remain

right

.

h

e

r

e

.

with

.

m

e

.

tonight ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ would

.

y

o

u

.

remain

right

.

h

e

r

e

.

with

.

m

e

.

tonight ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

.

i

f

.

only

.

a

.

single

.

memory

resides,

–

–

somewhere

within

.

m

y

.

mind,

.

.

t

h

a

t

.

.

alone

might

.

b

e

.

worth

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

.

alone

.

might

.

b

e

.

the

best

.

.

I

.

.

could

find . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

might

.

b

e

.

the

best

.

.

I

.

.

could

find

.

i

n

.

my

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Every

night

.

m

y

.

anticipation

.

r

u

n

s

.

wild . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Every

night

.

m

y

.

anticipation

.

r

u

n

s

.

wild . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Every

night

.

m

y

.

anticipation

.

r

u

n

s

.

wild . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

with

.

e

v

e

r

y

.

rising

dawn,

.

.

m

y

.

hope-filled

tides,

–

–

divide

.

a

n

d

.

multiply . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

divide

.

a

n

d

.

multiply . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

every

time

.

I

.

dream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ every

time

.

I

.

dream

.

about

you

.

a

n

d

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Misty

.

watercolor

.

words,

.

.

f

i

l

l

.

.

with

desire,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

always

arrive

.

w

i

t

h

.

sentimental

tears

.

i

n

.

my

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

a

l

w

a

y

s

.

arrive

.

w

i

t

h

.

sentimental

tears

.

i

n

.

my

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

I

.

forever

reside . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

I

.

forever

reside . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

I

.

forever

reside . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

this

place,

.

.

o

n

.

.

the

edge

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

reaching

.

f

o

r

.

the

faith . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

reaching

.

f

o

r

.

the

faith . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

reaching

.

f

o

r

.

the

faith . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

–

–

–

someday

.

y

o

u

.

might

decide

.

t

o

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ someday

.

y

o

u

.

might

decide

.

t

o

.

engage.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in March of 2002 in reflection of a powerful romantic attraction I had towards someone back then. I felt like I would have done almost anything to make things happen between us – but the more I tried the more distant things became. Such is the way things go I suppose. I’ve had multiple experiences like this in my life as I’m sure many others have. I’m at least happy I tried. I wrote most of this poem by listening to the wonderful song “Almost Hear You Sigh” by The Rolling Stones which I played in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem and inspire the writing of the poem. So, if you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

Surrender

.

t

o

.

shame,

.

.

I

.

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain,

.

.

o

f

.

.

every

vibrant

.

d

a

y

.

that

suddenly

begins

.

t

o

.

fill

.

w

i

t

h

.

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

begins

.

t

o

.

bleed

.

w

i

t

h

.

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

begins

.

t

o

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

begins

.

t

o

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

begins

.

t

o

.

bleed

.

w

i

t

h

.

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ surrender

.

t

o

.

shame,

.

.

I

.

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Surrender

.

t

o

.

shame,

.

.

I

.

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

fun

.

a

n

d

.

laughter

.

t

h

a

t

.

begins

.

t

o

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

all
.

t

h

e

.

neglect

.

t

h

a

t

.

begins

.

t

o

.

stain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

joys

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

never

came

.

t

o

.

stay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ surrender

.

t

o

.

shame,

.

.

I

.

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Surrender

.

t

o

.

shame,

.

.

I

.

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

a

part

.

o

f

.

you

here

.

y

e

t

.

still

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

a

part

.

o

f

.

you

here

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

n

o

t

.

allow

.

y

o

u

r

.

spirit

.

t

o

.

drift

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

n

o

t

.

allow

.

y

o

u

r

.

memory

.

t

o

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

will

.

n

o

t

.

allow

.

y

o

u

r

.

memory

.

t

o

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

for

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

day

.

t

h

a

t

.

remains

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

surrender

.

t

o

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

surrender

.

t

o

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

surrender

.

t

o

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

savor

.

t

h

e

.

pain.

Reflection: This was a melancholy-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2002 where the affected party continues to honor and keep alive the memory of someone that really meant something to him or her – even though it tends to taint, weigh, and have a negative impact on his/her life. At times, those who go away, you love and appreciate even more today.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2002 where the romancer meets someone he or she is highly attracted to who ends up absorbing and consuming much of his/her life throughout the days, weeks, and/or months of attraction. In hindsight, much of the initial attraction was more driven by perception and fantasy rather than reality. I’ve had a few experiences like this in my life as I’m sure most people have from time to time.

Here’s the poem which comes from my book Burning . . . Burning Blue: https://brighterdayslifecoaching.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/Lingering-Pictures-and-Words.pdf

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2001 where the affected party gets hammered by an on/off relationship that turned out to be nothing more than repeated false starts checkered by ups and downs and multiple engagements and retreats – and nothing he or she was initially expecting it to be. The affected party repeatedly tries to make things work to his/her own detriment. Sometimes, it’s better to read (and act on) the red flags early.

Here’s the poem which comes from my book Burning . . . Burning Blue: https://brighterdayslifecoaching.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/Deep-October-Breeze.pdf

It

would

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

easier

.

f

o

r

.

me,

.

.

i

f

.

.

we

.

w

e

r

e

.

never

.

t

o

.

meet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

would

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

easier

.

f

o

r

.

me,

.

.

i

f

.

.

you

.

h

a

d

.

told

.

m

e

.

you

wanted

.

t

o

.

be

.

s

o

.

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

only

yesterday

.

i

t

.

seemed,

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

traffic

lights

.

w

e

r

e

.

turning

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

traffic

lights

.

w

e

r

e

.

turning

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Only

yesterday

.

t

h

e

.

gardens

filled

.

w

i

t

h

.

you-s

.

a

n

d

.

me-s . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

seemed

.

t

o

.

r-e-a-c-h

.

f

o

r

.

eternity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

seemed

.

t

o

.

r-e-a-c-h

.

f

o

r

.

eternity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

today,

–

–

intimate

depths

.

f

e

e

l

.

depressed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

fill

.

w

i

t

h

.

emptiness,

.

.

a

s

.

.

the

sunflowers

.

t

h

a

t

.

danced

.

f

r

o

m

.

dawn

.

t

i

l

l

.

sunset,

–

–

bow

.

t

o

.

shades

.

o

f

.

remorse

.

a

n

d

.

regret . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Can

anyone

.

truly

expect

.

a

heart

.

t

o

.

flourish,

.

.

w

i

t

h

i

n

.

.

the

soils

.

o

f

.

neglect ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

Can

anyone

.

truly

expect

.

t

o

.

play

.

a

.

p

a

r

t

.

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

very

.

n

e

x

t

.

set ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

right

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

joy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

song . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

within

.

m

y

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

s

–

–

–

the

misery

  .

  s

   i

   n

   k

   i

   n

   g

(

    )

m

 e

      )

 (

    d

    e

    e

    p

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

sea

.

o

f

.

melancholy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ deep

into

.

t

h

e

.

sea

.

o

f

.

melancholy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

there

.

i

s

.

where

.

y

o

u

.

will

.

f

i

n

d

.

me,

–

–

should

.

y

o

u

.

happen

.

t

o

.

wonder

.

w

h

a

t

.

became

.

o

f

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

hope

.

y

o

u

.

recall

.

h

o

w

.

things

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

been,

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

befriend

loneliness

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

hope

.

y

o

u

.

breathe

.

h

o

w

.

it

.

feels,

.

.

t

o

.

.

bleed

.

a

l

l

.

colors

.

o

f

.

hope,

.

.

f

r

o

m

.

.

the

shadows

.

o

f

.

a

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

only

then,

–

–

will

.

y

o

u

.

truly

know

.

h

o

w

.

it

feels

.

t

o

.

sink

.

s

o

.

low . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

to

want

.

t

o

.

let

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ to

want

.

t

o

.

let

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

yes,

.

I

.

believe

.

i

t

.

would

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

easier,

.

.

i

f

.

.

you

.

h

a

d

.

never

been

.

w

i

t

h

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

would

.

never

trade

.

t

h

e

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

scattered

–

–

pictures,

–

–

whispers,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

words.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in October of 2001 in reflection of a brief, but powerful romantic experience I had back then. I’ve had several experiences like this in my life as I’m sure many others have.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in October of 2001 in reflection of a passionate, exploratory, romantic encounter (someone with the initials J.C.) and the repeated false starts checkered by ups and downs and multiple engagements and retreats. It was such a brief but passionate, exciting experience that I would never trade. So, I am much more content with at least having had the experience rather than not.

Here’s the poem which comes from my book Burning . . . Burning Blue: https://brighterdayslifecoaching.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/Steam.pdf

Reflection: This was a reflection-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2001 in observation of the competitive “not invented here” attitudes that prevailed during my engineering career up until then. I was working the WARSIM program which competed against the JSIMS program, the SIMCI consortium, and such, and all of those ended up uncompleted just like so many other business “empires” back then. I also observed so many talented, dedicated, young, hardworking engineers who worked many, many hours to keep their team(s) on schedule and potentially out of work. I remember thinking at the time that if we just married our empires together, might we avoid having to destroy them all.

Here’s the poem which comes from my book Burning . . . Burning Blue: https://brighterdayslifecoaching.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/Historys-Biggest-Joke.pdf

When

I

.

l

o

o

k

.

around

.

a

t

.

society’s

.

n

e

w

.

“!Look at me!”

.

kings

.

a

n

d

.

queens . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

flaunting

conceit

.

a

n

d

.

selfish

.

d

e

e

d

s

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

shadows

.

o

f

.

backroom

scenes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

e

l

.

at

ease

.

i

n

.

knowing

.

t

h

a

t

.

after

.

a

l

l

.

these

years,

.

.

I

.

.

found

.

a

.

way

.

t

o

.

remain

true

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

being

swayed

.

b

y

.

power

.

o

r

.

fantasy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

being

swayed

.

b

y

.

power

.

o

r

.

fantasy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

while

.

a

t

.

times,

.

.

I

.

.

m

i

g

h

t

.

mentally

quarantine

.

t

h

e

.

smug

.

a

n

d

.

royal

t~e~a~s~e

.

w

i

t

h

.

imaginary

fire

.

a

n

d

.

gasoline . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

know

.

i

t

.

truly

does

.

n

o

t

.

matter . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

does

.

n

o

t

.

matter

.

i

n

.

the

grand,

–

–

grand

–

–

scheme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

they

might

.

a

s

.

well

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

might

.

a

s

.

well

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

concrete

décor . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

cold,

–

–

marble

tiles

.

u

p

o

n

.

the

floor . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

y

.

mean . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

all

.

t

h

e

y

.

mean

.

t

o

.

me.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2001 in observation of some of the smug and self-important people I encountered from time to time in those days.

I

.

c

a

n

.

never

seem

,

t

o

.

control

.

t

h

e

.

yearn,

.

.

f

o

r

.

.

whenever

.

I

.

f

e

e

l

.

even

.

t

h

e

.

slightest

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

scratch

.

i

t

.

until

.

i

t

.

burns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

scratch

.

i

t

.

until

.

i

t

.

burns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

o

n

l

y

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

o

n

l

y

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

gain

release . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

bring

.

m

e

.

peace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

ease

.

t

h

e

.

yearnings

.

t

h

a

t

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ enough

.

t

o

.

ease

.

t

h

e

.

yearnings

.

t

h

a

t

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later,

.

.

I

.

.

cannot

.

f

i

n

d

.

my

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later,

.

.

I

.

.

cannot

place

.

m

y

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Five

.

d

a

y

s

.

later . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Can

.

y

o

u

.

please

.

t

e

l

l

.

me,

.

.

w

h

a

t

.

.

I’m

supposed

.

t

o

.

believe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

who

.

I’m

.

supposed

.

t

o

.

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

how

.

I’m

.

supposed

.

t

o

.

feel . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

n

.

a

.

good

.

day ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

.

s

e

e

m

s

.

I

.

haven’t

.

h

a

d

.

one

.

i

n

.

weeks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

months . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

even

years . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Have

.

I

.

become

.

l

o

s

t

.

again,

.

.

m

y

.

.

wayward

friend ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

.

it

.

s

e

e

m

s

.

today

could

.

b

e

.

the

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

today

could

.

b

e

.

the

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

please

.

s

i

n

g

.

another

prayer

.

f

o

r

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

appeasing

ease

.

o

f

.

summer’s

breeze,

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

hear

.

t

h

e

.

emergency

.

sirens

.

s-c-r-e-a-m . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

hear

.

t

h

e

.

emergency

.

sirens

.

s-c-r-e-a-m . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

hear

.

t

h

e

.

emergency

.

sirens

.

s-c-r-e-a-m . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

hear

.

t

h

e

.

emergency

.

sirens

.

s-c-r-e-a-m . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(for me)

.

.

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

.

.

.

I

.

l

i

v

e

.

inside

.

a

.

carnival . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

although

.

I

.

know

.

m

y

.

world

.

w

i

l

l

.

forever

.

s

w

i

n

g

.

from:

 _{low . . .}to^{. . . high . . .} to_{. . . low}

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

can’t

.

l

e

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

j

u

s

t

.

can’t

.

l

e

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

.

o

n

l

y

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

o

n

l

y

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

gain

release . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

bring

.

m

e

.

peace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

enough

.

t

o

.

ease

.

t

h

e

.

yearnings

.

t

h

a

t

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Spin

.

m

e

.

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

’round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

tornadoes

.

t

o

u

c

h

.

down . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

everything

.

splinters

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

ground . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

memory

.

becomes

lost

.

a

n

d

.

never

found . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

spin

.

m

e

.

’round.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2001 where the affected party cannot resist or overcome the temptations, addictions, and compulsions that surround him or her – and ends up repeatedly waking up from his/her binges to chaos, darkness, confusion, and clutter. Good days happen at times but become increasingly rare – leading to additional binges in the attempt to temporarily escape the pain, chaos, and darkness. It becomes a lifelong, all-consuming struggle – and it seems the affected party will never be able to escape the forces of temptation, addiction, and compulsion. The struggle can represent any form of temptation, addiction, or compulsion: drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, obsessions, etc.

Take

a

.

l

o

o

k

.

at

.

t

h

e

.

“trailer trash . . .”

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

embrace

“trailer trash”

values . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

wear

“trailer trash”

clothes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

dance

.

i

n

.

“trailer trash”

shoes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

drive

“trailer trash”

autos

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

“trailer trash”

roads . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ never

accumulating

anything

.

o

f

.

value

.

t

o

.

show . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Take

a

.

l

o

o

k

.

at

.

t

h

e

.

“trailer trash . . .”

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ well,

.

I

.

j

u

s

t

.

have

.

t

o

.

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

although,

that’s

.

a

l

l

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

past . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

k

n

o

w

.

those

.

t

h

a

t

.

have

“nothing,”

.

.

h

a

v

e

.

.

everything

.

t

o

.

give . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

those

.

g

o

i

n

g

.

“nowhere,”

.

.

f

i

n

d

.

.

meaningful

reasons

.

t

o

.

live . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

any

.

t

i

m

e

.

I

.

l

o

o

k

.

back,

.

.

t

o

.

.

compare

.

m

y

.

new

life

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

.

o

n

e

.

I

.

left

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ compare

my

.

n

e

w

.

life

comprised

.

o

f

.

individual~istics

.

a

n

d

.

material~istics . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

ever

unable

.

t

o

.

decide

which

.

t

o

.

sacrifice:

the

limelight

.

o

r

.

the

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

limelight

.

o

r

.

the

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

limelight

.

o

r

.

the

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

limelight

.

o

r

.

the

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

those

.

w

h

o

.

like

.

t

o

.

flaunt

.

t

h

e

.

latest

prize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

hide

behind

.

a

dramatic

.

n

e

w

.

disguise . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

armor

themselves

.

i

n

.

porcelain

pride,

.

.

n

o

t

.

.

resistant

enough

.

t

o

.

survive,

–

–

even

.

a

.

five

foot

.

.

d

i

v

e

.

.

I

cannot

fathom

.

t

h

e

.

reasons

why . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

when

.

I

.

l

o

o

k

.

behind

at

.

a

l

l

.

the

places

.

I

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

.

i

n

.

my

life,

–

–

that’s

.

w

h

e

n

.

I

realize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

was

.

n

o

t

.

bad . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

really

.

w

a

s

.

not

.

b

a

d

.

being

“trailer trash.”

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2001 in memory of the former, more meager life I left behind juxtaposed against the newer, “better” life I was living and the assumptions, misconceptions, and judgments of people who surrounded me towards those living under poorer conditions – people like me in the earlier days of my life. This poem was written in honor of all of those wonderful people that I knew back in those poorer, but still pleasant times.