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Drama

1 Jul

“The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much. In public affairs, in the rebuilding of civilization, something less dramatic and emotional is needed, namely tolerance.”
~E. M. Forster

jack
Drama

Drama, drama, everywhere
We sit ‘fore TVs and we stare
And watch the actors all exaggerate

Reactions to their dilemmas
Our real world drama is because
These make-believers amplify their hate

They’re given gold awards when they
Animatedly convey
Their over-the-top responses to pain

And those who have no reaction
Fail to garner much attraction
They’re “bad actors” because they do refrain

From whining, crying, being weak
It’s tears and rage that we do seek!
And in real life when that pain comes about

We mimic all those great actors
When dealing with our detractors
As we shout, scream, bellow, argue and pout

The Warrior’s a different breed
No actor on TV does lead
How they react when challenges arise

To get upset and let top blow
Like Nicholson and De Niro
Is lowly, weak, pathetic and unwise

The Warrior knows full well that
Such drama in real world falls flat
It does not lead to Oscar winning scenes

It only leads to selfishness
To ignorance, to ache and stress
And so they leave it for the TV screens

They calm their nerves and steady face
They take deep breathes, remember grace
And they deliver their words with great poise

While all the normals imitate
The drama that they think’s so great
On TV but in real world does destroy

                                 ~Miro

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Vicariously

30 Apr

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

Champion Warrior

3 Mar

My good friend Fitz “The Whip” Vanderpool just won the Canadian Middleweight Title in his mid 40’s despite most people telling him he was too old. Once again, the Whip proves that “With Hope, It’s Possible!”

title

Champion Warrior

They told him “It’s too late, old man”
“You’re much too old to fight”
But Fitz “The Whip” knew that to be
Judged by age isn’t right

Those who judged were short sighted
And didn’t see the training
The heart, desire, sacrifice
The passion still remaining

The board, the public, so many
Gave doubt and disbelief
They tried to steal his Hope and tried
To fill his heart with grief

But Champions are not affected
By another’s words
Champions are not sheep that
Walk along with the herds

Champions look within and
They listen to themselves
A Champion sees strength inside
And bravely, deeper delves

A Champion does not hear what
The pessimists do warn
A Champion blocks it all out
‘Cause Champions were born

To jab, to hook, to uppercut
To fight ‘till final round
To take all that life has to give
And pound and pound and pound

And rip respect from clutches of
Those who don’t try their best
To take it by force from all those
Who much prefer to rest

Congratulations, Champion
You have proven once more
That with Hope it is possible
Now no one can ignore

~Congrats Fitz “The Whip” Vanderpool, 45 years young
New National Boxing Authority Middleweight Champion
March 2nd, 2013

Spread The Fear

15 Dec

spreadthefear

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

Mileage

21 Nov

“It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage.” ~Indiana Jones

Mileage

I often hear from readers that
I’m quite wise for my age
They are surprised that someone with
So few greys can be sage

As a fedora’d hero once
Described, “It’s not the years
It is the mileage” that strengthens
Enlightens and clears

There’s many silver-haired children
Who walk the Earth each day
Many years under their belt
But no wisdom to say

They lived soft, comfortable lives and
Avoided sacrifice
They ran away from challenges
That were not “kind” and “nice”

Wrinkles do adorn their faces
And their backs are stooped
But these old children with Warriors
Can never be grouped

It’s not the years but mileage
Which makes one who’s a teen
Much more understanding, introspective
And serene

Because of losses they’ve endured
And hardships they’ve survived
These fresh-faced “kids” took Hell’s best shot
And conquered, thwarted, thrived

Although I’ve not yet seen forty
I’ve walked the extra mile
Enough to make my odometer
No longer compile

Years no longer have meaning
Grey hairs don’t upset me
Wrinkles and crow’s feet don’t make me
Wail like a banshee

Because I’ve learned that years do not
Reveal wisdom accrued
The key is mileage which isn’t
As easily viewed

                               ~Miro

Dark Warrior

14 Sep

“There is a difference between you and me. We both looked into the abyss, but when it looked back at us… you blinked.” ~Batman

Dark Warrior

The mugger slowly creeps within the shadows with a gun
In the dark his compassion and understanding’s none
He sees a young woman approach but doesn’t care that she
Just got off a twelve hour shift and almost works for free

He doesn’t care that what’s inside her purse will feed her babies
He simply looks on her with hunger like a dog with rabies
He doesn’t care what it will do to her to be robbed blind
The darkness that he lives in does not ask him to be kind

It doesn’t ask him to think deep or have some empathy
It simply does compel him to engage in a crime spree
The shadows whisper to him that he’s strong and she is weak
They reassure him that she has everything he does seek

It urges him to step forward and take all that she’s got
To manhandle, to have his way and leave her life distraught
Unfortunately for the mugger, someone else does dwell
Inside those same shadows and on him they cast the same spell

He’s perched atop a fire escape, his cape blows in the wind
The furrow on his cowl makes him constantly chagrined
He waits and watches as the mugger steps out of the dark
Startles the young woman, points his handgun and does bark

“Gimme that purse or you’re dead!” and then holds out his hand
But suddenly the gun’s knocked loose and on the ground does land
The mugger looks up startled to see the caped figure rise
In the dark he barely makes out the strange bat disguise

The masked Warrior looks down and sees the mugger stand still
The shadows whisper to him, “You have a much stronger will”
The darkness creeps and tells the bat, “He’s weak and you are strong”
The mugger now feels the dark is where he doesn’t belong

Fear grips mugger as he tries to turn and run away
But the caped Warrior is soon on him without delay
He glides across the sky and then lands on him with a smack
Mugger feels some muscles tear and a couple bones crack

The masked man grabs him by the hair and growls, “Not so fast”
Mugger wonders why the shadow’s whispers didn’t last
And then he looks up and he sees the eyes of the masked freak
And knows compared to him he’s just an amateur, just meek

The bat seeks out the dark and takes it to another level
He shows no fear as he walks into hell to face the devil
He uses that darkness around to make the others pale
That darkness in his eyes makes mugger yearn for a safe jail

Some place nice and bright where he can escape shadow’s grasp
Now that it’s been claimed by the man who speaks with a rasp
“I give up!” the mugger says, “I know” the bat replies
“You always blink” he says with flame and shadow in his eyes

He ties him to the walkway and then returns to the dark
His presence making it a little more dim, cold and stark
And waits until the next man comes who thinks the dark’s his home
In the shadows only the Dark Warrior does roam

                                                         ~Miro

Ring Warrior

13 Sep

“It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.” ~Rocky Balboa


Ring Warrior

“One!” the ref calls out but he seems very far away
The boxer tries to stand but both his legs have turned to clay
“Two!” the ref continues as the crowd gets on their feet
The ringing in his ears and pain makes him want to retreat

“Three!” he hears and wonders if he has given enough
But then he feels the beast inside, the deep down, buried “stuff”
“Four!” he hoists his head up and he sees his only son
Look on him with sympathy as if the old man’s done

“Five!” he locks his eyes across the ring at the the young champ
He’s winded, sore, and grimacing along with his whole camp
“Six!” the boxer faintly hears but now in his own head
He hears a louder voice that causes strength to his legs spread

He hears the speech he gave the kid about taking the hit
“Seven!” ref calls out as the old champ builds up his grit
“Eight!” he hears and remembers it’s not what he is throwing
It’s all about the punishment you take and still keep going

“Get up” he hears himself growl and plants a foot on mat
“GET UP!” he hears again and slowly rises for combat
“Nine!” the referee warns as the former champ does rise
Many people in the building are caught by surprise

All except for one who stands and grins and shakes his head
The current champ who’s watched as the old boxer hurt and bled
And took all that he threw at him and still kept moving on
None of his offense, his speed, his technique or his brawn

Could keep the old man down and now the champ has new respect
For the old man who’s standing there beaten, bloody and wrecked
But still willing to take the hit, he knows right then and there
Even if his points save him and judges do declare

That he has won, he knows deep down that in a test of heart
The old man won decisively right from the very start
The ref tells both combatants to again resume the fight
They punch and and jab and hook and uppercut with all their might

The bell rings and without delay the two men do embrace
The champ’s surprised by the look on the old champion’s face
Appreciation, gratitude, elation, thankfulness
He says “You’re a great champion and heart you do possess”

“Thanks” is all the champ can think to say as pictures flash
He cannot bring himself to be pompous, boastful or brash
He watches as the old man leaves the ring and walks to back
Before announcement’s even made of who won the attack

He slowly comes to realize that old man’s goal was not
To beat the champion and then demand a title shot
His mission on this night was simply just to take the hit
And to keep moving forward and to never, ever quit

And the look on the old man’s face shows he had in fact won
As he waves to the crowd and then throws arm around his son
And disappears through the curtain while crowd all chant his name
“He earned it” the champ thinks as he claps to show his acclaim

                                                                         ~Miro