Tag Archives: warrior

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Vicariously

Vicarious: adjective – felt or enjoyed through imagined participation in the experience of others.

vicarious
Vicariously

The athlete wraps his swollen knee
To take the pain down one degree
He puts his uniform on and he stands

He stretches and he grunts and sneers
While in the background thunder cheers
Of fans who have some very high demands

He does some squats and starts to sweat
His knee and shoulder play roulette
Sometimes they stab, sometimes it’s just an ache

He does this every single day
And though the word they use is “play”
He knows that it’s not “fun” that is at stake

He pushes himself to his edge
He sacrifices, makes a pledge
To expect more from himself than of others

He puts on all his gear and walks
Out of the locker room and talks
With his comrades, his teammates and his brothers

But soon they’re all drowned out by fans
Who yell and scream within the stands
Who shout, “We’re gonna win!” with all their might

A man who hasn’t run in ages
Takes a swig of beer and rages
“Show them what we’re made of and go fight!”

The athlete sees another man
Who tries to not spill his beer can
While nachos balance in his other grip

He holds the chips up to his face
And gobbles some without much grace
And with a full mouth thunders, “Let ‘er rip!”

Thousands pack the seats today
To chant, to cheer, to hope, to pray
To live vicariously through the men

Who choose discomfort, struggle, pain
Through snow and sleet and cold and rain
Fans pin their hopes on warriors again

“We’re gonna win!” some slob declares
And athlete does look up and stares
A cold and steely glance because he’s heard

Enough people who act involved
So athlete’s poise becomes dissolved
Because for him it is all so absurd

He says what is on all the minds
Of his teammates as he reminds
The nacho chomping fan it’s not *his* win

Until he puts the nachos down
And hits the gym and goes to town
Which makes his teammates all chuckle and grin

The nacho chomping fan is stunned
He feels betrayed and hurt and shunned
And now he cheers for the opposing team!

Once again he lives through those
Who saw two choices and they chose
Not path of comfort but the one extreme

The athletes all compete and drive
Each other to feel more alive
While fans in stands sit by and feel connected

And cheer and pump their fists with zeal
As if their achievement is real
Vicarious accomplishment injected

They all go home and feel quite spent
“Man, what a game!” one does lament
“We gave them everything we had out there!”

The athlete shakes his head and limps
His way past all the oafs and wimps
And then collapses down into a chair

He slowly pulls the knee wrap off
The pain hits him and makes him cough
“WE won jack shit” he mumbles quietly

“The victory is for my team
No matter much you all scream
And how much you live vicariously”

                             ~Miro
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Spread the Fear

news
Spread the Fear

The radio turns on to wake you
For the next work day
The first thing that you hear is how
The world is in dismay

People being run over
By cars that fled the scene
Another child missing and
Another murdered teen

A cop shot down by bad guys while
Making an arrest
Right between the eyes and then
A couple in the chest

Earthquakes tearing buildings down
And storms that loom ahead
The more you tune in to the grief
The more the fear is spread

It slowly crawls off of the page,
TV, or radio
And creeps into your mind where it
Will never cease to grow

Countries warring with each other
“What if it spreads here?”
Economy is crashing, “I’ll lose
All things I hold dear!”

And more you fear, the more you’ll tune
Back into the fear vendors
Hoping that someone will rise
To become our defenders

Surprise, surprise, there’s just more fear
There’s just more ache and dread
Just more reasons to stay home
And not get out of bed

At some point you have to admit
That what they’re dolling out
Is no different than a drug
That you snort up your snout

Tuning in to hear the constant
Destruction and death
Makes you just like a junkie
Who’s addicted to meth

You’ve snorted, shot up and smoked it
So long that now you’re hooked
“A car crash on the 401?
Ah, now I’m feeling cooked”

“I’ve gotta see the news tonight!
Some kid got knifed at school!”
And when that story’s done, you’ll wait
For the next piece that’s cruel

I turned my news off long ago
When it was clear to me
That every venue in the news
Reported “balance free”

They focused more on fear and dread
And less on things with hope
Their business is in dealing their
Despair inducing dope

I know this for a fact because
I put them to the test
Recently when I embarked
An altruistic quest

I set out to raise funds and hope
For cancer patients who
Are battling a bigger fear
Than news could ever brew

Some local papers said to me
“We’ll think about it some”
Guess they needed time to try
To spin it as more glum

And others, no response at all
Not interested in hope
More concerned with spreading fear
Than helping patients cope

Same goes for the TV stations
All except for one
Not enamoured with the tale
Since there’s no smoking gun

Point proven both to myself
And hopefully to you
About the kind of message that
The newsman likes to spew

You won’t find hope or strength or faith
When you go turn that dial
All they want to dispense is
All of their fearful bile

Stop the spread and tune out from
The news that does no good
The stories that discourage you
From seeing things that could

Set your mind at ease and rouse
Your passion and your nerve
To realize the greatest purpose
In life is to serve

The fear wants you to stay inside
And keep serving their needs
Listening to their commercials
Bringing them proceeds

The fear will keep you in your house
Curled up in a scared ball
Only when you turn it off
Can you start walking tall

                                       ~Miro

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Sting

sting

Based on a true story…

Sting

A man called me to ask for help
The other day at work
He asked, “You like this crappy weather?”
Surely with a smirk

“Yes,” I said with no emotion
“I enjoy rough things
With struggle and with discomfort
And with whatever stings

And pains and tears and hurts us, we
Are brought more strength and grace”
He asked if I was kidding but
He could not sense a trace

Of sarcasm or humor in
My voice so then he said,
“How old are you?” and I replied
“36 years I’ve tread”

He laughed and dismissed,
“Oh that’s why, you’re still just a young pup”
And so to show him age means nothing
I then caught him up

“I’ve been hurt bad and am in pain
I’ve lost job and my house
And worst of all, I had to watch
My loving, graceful spouse

Endure the worst pain there could be
When we found out our child
Would never take its first breath,
Yes, I’m young but I’ve complied

More pain and struggle, misery
And loss in my short years
Than many grey-haired people have
In their longer careers”

He sadly said “I’m sorry” but
I replied “I am not
It’s all these things that I’ve endured
That strengthened, sharpened, taught

Imbued with patience, wisdom, grace
And showed me the true way
That is why it is no lie
Whenever I do say

That I enjoy the challenge, struggle
Discomfort and rigor
It’s all these things that awaken
That inspire, that trigger

The Warrior that was dormant
To pound chest and to roar
To rise to the occasion and
To take a little more”

All that he could say was that
He liked my attitude
I asked him what he thought of all
The snow that chilled his mood

He changed his mind and said that it
Was not so bad in fact
“No,” I said, “There are worse things
That cause greater impact”

Before he left, I asked him just
How old he was as well
“54” he said, then I
Inquired, “How much hell?”

“Not as much as you,” he said
So I replied, “Well then
If you are lucky, struggle will
Appear and bring you Zen

And only then will you see that
The years don’t mean a thing
Rather, it’s what you survive
The hurt, the pain, the sting”

                               ~Miro

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The Warrior’s Weight

atlas

The Warrior’s Weight

A Warrior is forced to carry
A weight that makes most normals weary
They shudder at the thought of all that mass

They pass the buck or run and hide
Or many mad complaints are cried
And selfishness is shown with lack of class

They throw hands up and say “I quit”
And hope someone else deals with it
And yes, they’re right, often another will

That other is one of the few
That doesn’t bitch and cry and stew
That other is a person of great skill

But they did not become that way
By magic or by words they pray
That other gained that skill because of weight

They grew in strength and grace and poise
Because they do ignore the noise
That ego makes when it says, “How I hate

To deal with something difficult
Uncomfortable, a mean insult,
An angry person, or having to wait

A task that does require sweat”
Which ego poses as a threat
And so it simply tries to pass it off

But what that lazy normal can’t
Notice, recognize or grant
Is the effect on those who do not scoff

The comfort-addict misses how
That weight they pass off does endow
A Warrior with greater strength when they

Take that task and conquer it
It makes them patient, intense, fit
And able to face threats without dismay

The normals will cry “But I’m trying!”
But Warriors know that they’re lying
Their tired lines are known to us quite well

“I’m only human!” they defend
“Nobody’s perfect!” they contend
And that is why they’ll always be in hell

They’ll settle only for perfection
Which is the ego’s infection
Of the mind which fools you into thinking

“All or nothing” which will lead
To no progress, momentum, speed
To no growth, only regression and shrinking

When normals pass the buck to me
I simply grasp and yank it free
I no longer ask them to do their chore

They’ve atrophied and don’t possess
The strength or grace to take the stress
But I do not take it without a roar

I pound my chest proverbially
And let them know that I am free
Of their weakness because I always lift

The Warrior’s Weight when it is passed
To me by those who are half-assed
A burden? Not really, that weight’s a gift

The lazy, sad pathetic sacks
Will breathe easy because their backs
Don’t bear a heavy load and they’ll rejoice

But no matter how easy they
Manage to make every day
They won’t be able to drown out the voice

Of every man and woman who
Takes that buck and does imbue
A quick comment about how it is wrong

To quit in favor of the road
That offers the much lighter load
Because it’s not one that makes you strong

                                    ~Miro

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Compensate

compensate

Compensate

“All or nothing” is a way
Of thinking that will lead
To nothing more than standing still
If you have just one speed

As years go by the damage will
Take toll on a few parts
But when a limb is lost, that’s when
The intensity starts

And heightened training  on surviving
Limbs must then be done
If something is wrong with your arm
Your task is then to run

If knees are shot or ankles ache
Then get yourself a bench
Realize your arms still work
And can be used to clench

And lift and throw around dead weight
And get your life blood flowing
If atrophy attacks one part
Then others must be growing

Compensate, don’t sit and cry
About what doesn’t work
Don’t focus on injury
‘Cause healthy parts you’ll shirk

Warriors will find a way
To push themselves as far
Physically as they can go
No matter what does mar

They’ll run or walk with neck and back
And shoulder injuries
They’ll exercise their abs and chest
Despite their blown-out knees

They are aware of what remains
And let go of what’s gone
So that the healthy parts increase
In endurance and brawn

                                        ~Miro

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Strangers

strangers-are-just-friends-i-havent-met-yet

Strangers

I’ve recently made an attempt
To befriend random folks
A smile, a wave, a “Hello” and
Some chat-chat tried to coax

My findings were quite disappointing
Most were much too guarded
They were too busy and my efforts
Were quickly discarded

Many looks of suspicion
And much fear did I sense
My friendly and warm smile was
Met with a look quite tense

Very few humans are open
To meeting new people
Whether it’s the street, bus stop
Or under a church steeple

Why is everyone afraid
And always thinks the worst?
Why must people be hounded
Begged, pestered and coerced?

To be honest it makes me sad
To think about how shy
Defensive, cautious and averse
So many are to “Hi”

To put it into perspective
I wrote a poem filled
With inspiration and kind words
To help someone’s strength build

I tried to give this note away
But everyone responded:
“No thanks” as they hurried off
Each one of them absconded

I stood there staring at the note
And chuckled to myself
All their preconceived notions
To protect their own health

All their worry and caution
Had denied them a chance
To have their spirit boosted and
Their attitude enchanced

Because they thought I wanted something
Or was selling God
They thought to be that friendly and
Selfless was much too odd

I crumpled up the note and threw it
Right into the trash
I guess the only paper people
Take is cold, hard cash

Thank God for the internet
Where people stop and read
Where preconceived notions do not
Obstruct every good deed

                            ~Miro

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Pylons

traffic-cones

Pylons

Be wary as you navigate
Through the masses of men
And women who are too selfish
To wield the sword and pen

Who are too weak and too afraid
Self-centred and aloof
Who just believe if they are given
Hard, substantial proof

The skeptics, critics, cynics, cowards
Pessimists and thieves
Are simply pylons through which a
Warrior Poet weaves

Building their dexterity
Their elegance, precision
Quickly passing by those who
Are cursed with indecision

Simply pylons, nothing more
Something to be sidestepped
They are not barriers or walls
Much too high to be leapt

They’re simply little cones on ground
That must be circumvented
And are not worth the time to be
Focused on or lamented

                            ~Miro