The Rhetorician

It’s easy to figure out what to say when the pay is right;
You just gotta be careful not to stray
From the lines of your set stage play;
So offer stubble and hay to satisfy the crowd that brays,
And be sure not to step on any feet as your sheep bleat
Because you know you can’t take the heat
From those who fill the seats
And cheat any real conviction,
So mind your restrictions without friction,
Causing no affliction to the conscience by your diction;
Stay within the lines and you’ll still get paid
For your rhetorical trade ‘n then laid to rest
In the best of suits that suits your kind best;
In the meantime, enjoy your little nest of self-security,
After all, you shouldn’t worry about offending anyone:
You say absolutely nothing to cause offense
And show not even pretense of real belief
To the relief of your self-satisfied audience;
So you heap words upon words in keep of boundaries
That were laid by those who paid you to come for hire,
So there’s no fire in your heart, no part of you aflame,
No finger pointing in blame for poverty and atrocities
Committed in the trenches of life, which is not a game!
So rave on, jack ass, rave on!
You are the Rhetorician!

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Too Persistent, Damn Insistent!

You demand to understand why
They pushed you away that day,
But can you bear to tear yourself
Away from self-delusion
To hear the conclusion?
You were overly persistent
And too damnably insistent!
It was your way or the highway,
You tried to take over,
Then you lied to them!
And you insisted you were right
With all of your might,
And it was ever so trite
But also quite the fright
That you’d made such intrusion;
And you stopped up your ears
And shed many tears of fears
That you’d never again see them,
But they had to be free from you!
No, no; you were blind to all this,
Your mind all in a tangled bind . . .
But now? Can you see in hindsight?
Do you have a better view
Of what was then so true?
Ah! But they have not completely
Cut you off, forever shut you out;
They’ve only made some space,
Put you in your place
And set a new pace . . .
Can you, will you accept this?
Can you be part ‘n not the whole?
Play the more secondary role?
This all may come as quite a blow,
But, really, you had to know, right?
So don’t go digging your low grave;
Up now ‘n show your better self!
Repair the heart bridge with care
Repair . . . with tender loving care

Forgiveness: I Am But One Man

Did I not show you any attention?
I’m sorry; I didn’t know!
Did I seem to ignore you in the crowd?
But it was so busy and loud . . .
Please excuse me for being human –
I am, after all, only one man –
Did I seem to turn my eyes away?
But there’s something else to say:
So many people walking, talking,
Dancing and laughing and, really
It’s not my way to be so swayed
That I snub friend and kin in spirit!
Please believe me and relieve me
Of this unbearable burden . . .
I never meant to hurt;
In fact, I’d give you my very shirt
If you needed it and even more
Without considering it a chore,
And this is honestly true;
Yes, I knew you were there, but . . .
Oh, time! And people and chime
Of the clock, and I seemed blocked
From drawing near you, my dear!
I will show you attention
Now that I know and say,
‘Away with the crowd so loud!’
Only forgive me for being human –
I am, after all, only one man –
And the demands of life command
So much of my very self, but . . .
Here I am now and bow to you;
Forgive me for grieving you so!
Forgive me for leaving you alone!
I am, after all, only one man . . .

Words

Words . . . where do they go?
What do they do?
What do they amount to?
Do they touch the lonely?
Do they reach the homely?
Do they calm anger?
Avert danger?
Or are they even heard?
Soft or sharp,
Sung to the harp,
Does anyone really hear?
Ah! Maybe some are hard,
While most we discard . . .
Soft-spoken, lily-white,
Bright and light
Are not words for a fight,
But may be mightier,
Although also ignored . . .
Words are grand
So long as they stand,
But even if in revelation
If they stand in isolation
With no one listening
And no one answering
What, then, are those words?
Words . . . where do they go?
What do they do?
What do they amount to?
Why bother with . . . words?
Especially if you’re never
Heard