Tag Archives: warrior poet wisdom

Busy

9 May

Busy

Sorry, I don’t have the time
To talk to you today
I’m too busy with my life
To hear what you’ve to say

I’ve got this thing to do right now
And it can’t wait a sec
But maybe if things do ease up
Can I get a raincheck?

Not sure when that will be though
This thing is so high stakes
I’m so invested and full-blast
I can’t put on the brakes

I wish I could put it on hold
And ask what’s new with you
But you have to understand
My spare moments are few

I’ve barely got the time to eat
Or make a change of clothes
Or watch the playoff game tonight
Or other favourite shows

Sorry, I wish I could help
There’s so much going on
I’m so tied up in my affairs
I’m just a bit withdrawn

With what is going on around
The world outside of me
Hopefully I’ll have time to
Open my eyes and see

That the greatest purpose in
Life is to serve others
Maybe once things calm a bit
I’ll have time for my brothers

I’ll tell you what, this thing I’ve got
Could hold on just a bit
It’s not the end of the world if
We take the time to sit

And now that I think twice about
This other thing I’ve got
It won’t take as much time as I
Thought that it would allot

And since there’s times I’m really bored
And have nothing to do
I’d feel like such a hypocrite
To have no time for you

When I stop and ponder how
The word “busy” is used
I realize I’m just asking
Myself to be excused

For only having time for me
And my selfish affairs
It’s not a word that’s ever used
By anyone who cares

So strike what I said earlier
I’m not busy at all
My stuff can wait ‘till later on
I’ve got time for your call

It’s funny how despite how busy
Every day would seem
I didn’t realize that time’s
Passing was not extreme

There’s always moments to step back
From our busy day’s work
Service is the one job that
We shouldn’t ever shirk

                              ~Miro

The Lost Art of Salutation

13 Feb

The Lost Art of Salutation

When my dad was a child
In a long ago age
People were not
So shy to engage

Or lazy or fearful
Or surly or rude
To not give a greeting
Was thought of as crude

My father was taught
When he entered a room
To take notice of all
And let his voice boom

“Hello everyone!
Good to see you once more!
And to those I don’t know
I’m pleased to make your

Acquaintance today”
And tell them his name
He’d stick out his hand
And they’d do the same

The ancient handshake
A sign of respect
The best way for two
Strangers to connect

But something got lost
As years did pass by
Hands stopped extending
And few would say “Hi”

It became commonplace
To walk in a joint
And sit down without
Making a point

To say who you are
And to greet the ones there
Many would just
Be unaware

When you start with indifference
Right off the bat
Is it surprising
Most friendships fall flat?

My father taught me
To stick out my paw
But sometimes it’s met
With a smirk and guffaw

Sometimes I’m given
A look of confusion
They might even check
My head for contusion

“What the hell’s that?”
Is the look on their face
As they take the hand
With an awkward embrace

There’s nothing wrong with
A womanly shake
Unless you’re a man
And afraid you might break

A nail or a bone
Or pick up a germ
But I was taught that
The grip should be firm

It’s the warrior’s way
What my dad taught me
And his dad before him
And on down the tree

So though it’s archaic
An ancient lost art
I have no problem
In standing apart

By following what
My father instilled
Whether your mood
Is glowing or chilled

I’ll stick out my hand
And tell you “Hello”
Because I believe
It’s the best way to show

That I’m happy to meet you
And want to construe
That salutation’s
The best way to debut

                           ~Miro

Sensitive vs Fragile

28 May

Sensitive vs Fragile

“So sensitive!” the phrase is used
When ‘feelings’ do get hurt
The idea sensitivity
Is bad does disconcert

Sensitive is vital
It’s a show of empathy
Awareness of what’s going on
In others, not just “me”

But ‘sensitive’ too often comes
With armor far too thin
Fragility; so quick to wound
No leather, just soft skin

To have great sensitivity
But also heavy shield
Is empathy and endurance
Only the wisest wield

To be awake, aware, attuned
But also withstand fire
To see the ugliness and wrong
To wade through the quagmire

With hands that do not tremble and
With voice that’s stern and steady
With deep breaths slow, deliberate
And clear mind, sharp and ready

Only 1 in 100
Aren’t triggered and don’t crack
Only few are sensitive
While still immune to flak

Because they have discarded the
Weak plate that posed a threat
To the integrity of their defense:
The ego’s fret

Be sensitive, awake, aware
Be mindful, but not frail
Fragility will cause these gifts
To lead to no avail

                           ~Miro

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.