Tag Archives: poem

Devil on my Shoulder

30 Nov
Devil on my Shoulder
 
There’s a devil on my shoulder
But he doesn’t tell me, “Drink!”
He doesn’t urge to lie or steal
Instead, he whispers, “Sink”
 
This devil took his seat way back
In two thousand and six
He caused my clavicle damage
Which no surgeon can fix
 
Every day he brings the pain
The first moment I wake
Under every smile and laugh
This devil makes me ache
 
He twists his pitch fork deep and hard
Whenever people doubt
The pain spreads to my gut and makes
Me want to puke lunch out
 
Sometimes lightning dances there
And sometimes lava pours
Of all the challenges I’ve faced
Of all the tests and wars
 
Nothing pushes my limits
As this small devil does
The fog, fatigue, the hurt, the ache
And all of it because?
 
More than 10 years have now passed
And still I don’t know why
And many with the same devil
Have made the choice to die
 
What is it that keeps me going?
What drags me along?
Why do I not cry and pout
Despite all that is wrong?
 
Perhaps because that devil is
Not just a part of me
He takes up space no matter where
On this world you may be
 
And our purpose is not to rid
Ourselves of that horned beast
Our purpose and our mission is
Not just to be released
 
Our purpose is to battle and
Our purpose is to duel
Charlie Mike, continue mission
Even with no fuel
 
And when the last breath leaves your lungs
There’s no peace to be had
I won’t be going to heaven
To chill with Christ and dad
 
That little shit who sat upon
My mortal shoulder can’t
Get away that easy, no
To him I will not grant
 
Reprieve simply because my body
Ceases to exist
I’m coming down to meet him and
I’m balling up my fist
 
Religious folk are scared of hell
And hope they can avoid
The fire and the brimstone by
Not getting so annoyed
 
But for the ones like me who carry
Devils dealing pain
Hell is where we are right now
And somehow we maintain
 
Grace, composure, empathy
Despite lightning and flame
Through focus and intensity
No sorries and no shame
 
Make yourself as comfortable
As you can, little scamp
‘Cause when it’s time to move on
…
…
…
I’ll be coming to YOUR camp
 
                           ~Miro
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Distance

25 Nov

Distance

To deal with something that takes toll
To overcome and take control
Takes distance but not in the way you’d think

It’s not about the miles moved
Creative distance is what’s soothed
So many who have been pushed to their brink

Moving physically won’t do
Much good if your mind still does stew
Over the thing that threatens all your peace

And so that mind you must coerce
In creativity imerse
Yourself and soon your struggle will then cease

Create! Create! Do anything!
A painting! Writing! Sculpture! Sing!
Will something new into reality

Creative distance, every day
And soon you’ll see how far away
The bullshit is that made you take a knee

Get over yourself and stand tall
(Even if at first you crawl)
In time your creativity will trek

The distance that will show quite clear
What caused you stress and pain and fear
Is now just a distant and silly speck

                      ~Miro

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Spread The Fear

3 Oct
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

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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Selfie

20 Sep

Selfie

A camera placed in every hand
In 10 years time, each ego’s grand
The selfie shows us just how far we fell

Before each person could record
Each moment, folks were not so bored
The focus was on each flower’s sweet smell

Then came phones with quite the app!
An instant, easy way to snap
A picture…but the subject matter shows

Instead of taking the world in
Too many are focused within
Before the bathroom mirror they all pose

Expressions on their face reveal
How little passion, vigor, zeal
These self-absorbed self-muses do possess

Ever notice how most who
Take selfies seem a bit askew?
No smiles, just a blank look of distress

“Look at me!” it screams aloud
“Please pay attention!” to the crowd
But no one cares ‘cause they take selfies too

Hoping someone else will care
And compliment their done up hair
Their clothes, their looks, but no one takes the cue

Fishing for a thumbs up or
A comment, every selfie whore
Does walk the streets of Twitter, Instagram

And Facebook looking for a stroke
For their ego but it’s a joke
With no punchline, just an unfunny sham

They snap and snap and snap away
And post and post and post each day
“It’s me!” It’s me! It’s me!” is their sad song

A camera placed in every hand
To take pictures of all that’s grand
How did this lovely idea go so wrong?

                        ~Miro

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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

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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

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