ON THE WAY TO JOY

ON THE WAY TO JOY

Wean yourself, my friend, from screaming,
Give yourself, my love, to dreaming.
Light a candle for each time smiles creep like panthers across your face.

Wean yourself, my friend, from sorrow,
Have some faith in a new tomorrow,
Make this world of demons your bauble and your toy.
The path is laid with ice and stones, on the way to joy.

First the icicles must break.
The winter must slip between the cracks of treacherous, slippery sidewalks.
The eyes must swim in their aqueous and vitreous humors
With a clear shine devoid of glaze.
Life through the microscope must come into focus
And the days must lose their mystic haze.

Next the tears must fall like syrup,
Down your hard Mount Rushmore face.
The cold must melt beneath the gun
Of a fire breathing, fighting sun.
The eyes must swim in the peril of the terrors they see.
The heart must warm to the pale, grim journey.
The mind must cradle the tragic in its bosom,
Compassion must live bold and free.

So wean yourself, my friend, from screaming,
Long enough to start your dreaming,
Light a candle for each time smiles creep like a sunrise across your face.
Wean yourself, my friend, from sorrow,
Turn your gaze toward tomorrow.
Make this world of demons your bauble and your toy.
The path is laid with ice and stones, on the way to joy.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

I SO DON'T MATTER

I SO DON'T MATTER 

I so don't matter to this world,

Except perhaps as backdrop

Or some subtle form of subtext.

I so don't matter to this world,

Perhaps I'll matter to the next.

I'll even be so blunt and brave,

To surmise there's life beyond the grave,

That if I'll matter anywhere,

For sure it will be there.

I so don't matter to this world,

Except as a sort of footnote,

A white surrender flag unfurled,

A piece of prose you know by rote.

And not to under estimate,

My loving friends and my handsome mate,

I'm afraid I must reiterate,

What I feel in my heart must be true.

I so don't matter to this world,

Perhaps I'll matter to the heavens blue.

Like a toy designed to be poorly tossed,

My joints are stiff as a ball and chain,

Despite the meds and the surgery costs,

Despite my tears that pour like rain.

This body answers to a different power,

A power much higher than me,

And I so don't matter to this world,

Just a lesson in what not to be,

A poor and frail cautionary tale,

A source of mediocrity.

My spirit it falters but the trail it leads me on,

Struggling quite gallantly,

To follow my own sun.

I so don't matter to the world at large,

It's tote that bale and lift that barge.

Nowhere is sometimes where I feel  

Most loved and most at home,

I so don't matter to this world,

Just some quiet souls alone.

And they will gather near me when it's time to go,

To shed this earthly specter free,

Like roses thrown upon the snow,

Discarded oh so carelessly.

I so don't matter to this world,

A sailor upon tempestuous seas.

Nor is this a sad, cheap plea for a chorus of yes, you do,

Just the idle thoughts of idle hands,

That hang as stiff as drying glue.

Perhaps I mattered when announcing songs,
With a voice assured and oh so strong,
Or perhaps when proofreading courtroom drama.
Back when my nickname was Mr. Comma.
Or perhaps when I could write a rhyme.
Oh so perfect and sublime,
That it would leave tears in the strength of its wake,
Back when there was a lot more at stake.

I am in no hurry to say goodbye,

But in case I someday do,

I'll reiterate and make my case,

An ape could easily take my place,

In this frightful human zoo.

I'm filled to the brim with rusted tin,

What else can I possibly do?

To prove I'm more than detritus

Backdrop or a subtext.

I so don't matter to this world,

Perhaps I'll matter to the next.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2014

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: Sometimes having a bad day can be a blessing. This poem came out of one, and i am thankful for my bad days and my good. BUT….if your bad days are getting out of hand, please seek help. We need you around!