You’ll Have To Kill Me

18 Sep
You’ll Have To Kill Me
 
There was a Warrior named Peace
The irony was grand
Other’s threats would not surcease
Fore he would take a stand
 
There would be those who’d warn of pain
But Peace said, “Not enough
Unless it’s death, it’s all in vain”
He’d boldly call their bluff
 
“Financial ruin!” some would crow
But Peace would then retort
“While I still breathe there is no woe”
Those threats young Peace would thwart
 
Time and time again they’d try
To strike fear in his soul
But Peace would never quake or cry
He’d dare a tougher goal
 
“You’ll have to kill me” he would give
A warning of his own
“You’ll win when I no longer live
When I am dust and bone”
 
And this is how young Peace did learn
That cowards don’t spill blood
They do not fight or cut or burn
Each threat is just a dud
 
Words used to intimidate
The comfort-addled weak
Quick to threaten, scold, berate
And dishearten the meek
 
But when a Warrior does raise
The stakes to death and life
These threateners are in a daze
So few unsheathe their knife
 
What they desire has low cost
They’re unwilling to pay
The price of fury and exhaust
To get their selfish way
 
Times have changed and very few
Are called to pay that price
They’ll use just words to threaten you
But never will they slice
 
They’ll talk and talk but never pound
They’ll urge but never slit
In idle threats no one has drowned
At least, no one with grit
 
                       ~Miro
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The Root of All Fears

11 Aug
The Root of All Fears
 
There was a man ‘was ‘fraid of death
It spread to all this thoughts
The fear of breathing his last breath
Left his thin will in knots
 
The fear of that dark, patient reaper
Was root of all dread
Every scare, funk, fright and doubt
Was thanks to Mr. Dead
 
He lived out his entire life
In fear of his demise
And when it came, with his last breath
And closing of his eyes
 
Still he clung by fingernails
And wheezed for leniency
But Death is absolutely fair
And never shows mercy
 
There was a gal ‘was ‘fraid of death
It coloured every day
Despite a stunning canvas
Death would taint life with dismay
 
Every single moment had
A mark of coming doom
A marriage, child’s birth, even
A flower in full bloom
 
Every wondrous moment rotted
With the thought of loss
Nothing took away the fear
No bible, no gold cross
 
No quotes, no books, no meditation
Eased her of her fear
One day her heart exploded when
The Reaper did appear
 
There was a child ‘was ‘fraid of death
That fear was planted early
Her mommy and her daddy said
That death turned straight hair curly
 
They taught her death was to be feared
Because loss causes pain
And also taught that happiness
Is only when you gain
 
And so she grew and gained and was
Quite happy ‘till she lost
But then she gained again which caused
A thawing of the frost
 
Until the day that Mr. Dead
Arrived on her front door
She dropped and sobbed in terror for
Her coda on the floor
 
There was a Warrior ‘was not
Afraid of death and so
Since death is the root of all fears
His life did not have woe
 
He made his peace with Mr. Dead
And said “When you are ready”
And lived each day as though his last
With power, poise, steady
 
The ones who lived in fear
The ones who were afraid to die
Called him crazy as they tainted
Flowers and the sky
 
But Warrior, his deal made firm
Saw colours bright and vivid
No tainting, simply pure and true
Which made the normals livid
 
Each moment, no matter how small
Was special and serene
Impending doom did not besmirch
The red and blue and green
 
When Mr. Dead chose to collect
The price we all must pay
The Warrior settled the fee
Promptly as he did say
 
“As it so happens I woke up
This morning and did ponder
This may be my final day
And so I should not squander
 
I lived it as each other day
As if were my last
I pay the toll with no regrets
My life has been quite vast”
 
Mr. Dead collected and
The Warrior did die
Just like all the others but
The Reaper gave a sigh
 
“If only all would live while they
Still breathe instead of fear
Such a waste, to let my toll
Rob them of all their cheer”
 
                       ~Miro

Warriors Work Weekends

8 Jul

The weekend is the time to do the work on YOURSELF.

 

The Myth of Multitasking: How Phones Destroy Focus

6 Jul

Why Text Without Tone Leads to Misunderstanding

5 Jul

Here’s a face, voice & tone to go with my latest message. 😀

Why text without tone leads to misunderstanding.

Humanly Possible

31 Jan

Humanly Possible

“Only human” people say and think we’re all the same
That when it comes to discipline, we all must have low aim
One person gets discouraged and thinks, “No one could succeed!”
They think that their own shortcomings apply to the whole breed

“Only human” I have heard until it’s made me sick
“Only human” from the lazy, close-minded and thick
“Only human” from the ones who grew up with excess
“Only human” from those who think only God can bless

I recognized my shortcomings both in body and mind
Before my grey hairs had grown in but unlike most, declined
To excuse all my weakness as the limits of my race
Instead of shrugging, “Only human” like a weak disgrace

I sought out other humans, both alive and from the past
Whose strength, intensity, resolve and fortitude was vast
I did the work and hunted them, pursued without relent
I sniffed them out by tracking their indomitable scent

And while the lazy sensitives grew wider and more frail
And followed other wimps, I found the WARRIORS to hail
Samurai and knights, soldiers, mystics, a Savior too
Who kept his GRACE while being KILLED (“only human” like YOU)

Time and time again I found these humans who did hone
Their minds to steel, bodies to rock and fire in their bone
I saw what lack of passion did: love handles and a gut
Excess making body weak and mind stuck in a rut

And I compared that laziness and excess to the Lords
The Warriors, the Kings, the humans who all worked towards
Pushing limits, being more and choosing what they feel
Refusing to give up control, to whine, to cry, to kneel

“Only human” say the ones who sit and wait and think
“This is it” and never push their limits to their brink
But there are some who chose to stand, to run and to believe
“Human possibility” is not something to grieve

                                                         ~Miro

Shyness

11 Jan

Shyness

As difficult as it may be to think that I was shy
Yes, it’s true, this Warrior was once a timid guy
A permanent frog in my throat when I was just a lad
Always hearing “You’re so quiet!” from every comrade

And as my boldness grew, I saw the same shyness in others
And recognized the source of it in my sisters and brothers
Remembered well why I minced words, held tongue and took the fifth:
An overwhelming urge to please all and get along with

Fear of being rejected, not liked, thought poorly of
Fear of being ridiculed and mocked, deprived of love
I conquered shyness with acceptance that all which I feared
Was already in full affect, its ugly head had reared

Despite all of my efforts, there was still mocking and hate
Despite my quietness and caring, still they would berate
Despite my politeness and empathy still they would tease
Despite the warmth within my heart, around me was a freeze

Perhaps my teens or twenties, I no longer recall when
It started being clear that all these women and these men
That I had been so shy around and tried to gratify
Were not people who were worthy of being my ally

Upside down my world had turned, from thinking “all are friends!”
To being more judgmental and now saying, “It depends”
I saw the world through different eyes when I spoke loud and clear
Refused to be talked over, teased, belittled with a jeer

The magic phrase for you shy ones whose voices are so soft
The magic phrase to ask yourself as well as throw aloft
The magic phrase to ask real loud with bass and force and starch:
The magic phrase that raises eyebrows and makes their backs arch:

“Who are you?” is what I’d ask myself as I’d discern
“Who are you?” I’d ask with no regret and sometimes burn
“Who are you?” I’d ask and see the lack of discipline
“Who are you?” I’d ask and watch the tearing of thin skin

“Who are you?” I’d ask and those who gladly dished it out
Showed they couldn’t take it too as they would whine and pout
When I would ask myself just WHY should I care for this person
The truth is that my shyness would vanish instead of worsen

“Tell me what have you done? What’s your passion? What’s the price
You pay day in and day out? Tell me why should *I* be nice?”
And that is when I learned how many have entitlement
How many think that they are owed without sweat being spent

So if your voice does tremble, if your heart begins to pound
If your hands are clammy and the room spins round and round
Ask the question and perhaps all those who make you shy
Aren’t people you’ll waste worry on, instead, just a “Good-bye”

                                                       ~Miro