She slips on theological rhetoric
She hides behind the voodoo stuck to her silent tongue
Wearing her vixen like dress
She acquired accolades and accommodations from the saliva of the burnt orange wolf
She spoke the language of love in riddles and teenage rhymes
Wearing her Madusa like pearls
She mishandled truth and washed down a liter of half bitten lies
She threw away fortunes and laughed at others misfortunes
Wearing her witchcraft perfume
She roared liked the bitch she was and ignored the crowd who carried her on a Persian rug
Wearing her battle ax over her shoulder

She disguises herself with prescriptions
and 1970 cliches. More often she sleeps in black leaves and clenches to the whispers of the blizzard. She prays to the secondhand lions and searches for forgotten riddles. She laughs at horror films and weeps at the comedy classics. She’s never used the word forgiven.

She wrestles with the fears in the morning and drowns in the insomnia at night. She speaks in a language without discretion. She plays with her skeletons in the closet. She ignores the left side of her imagination. She dances to jazz and dips her fingers into white pages to write enigmatic poetry.

She expresses affection with amber kisses and her fingertips. She said goodbye to her fireflies. She built walls with quicksand and tears. She stares at her right side of her imagination. She pleads with the stone truth. She’s witnessed more endings than beginnings.

She circles her anger like a hawk. She’s deprived of human decency. She loves with a small percent of her tattered heart. The rest is locked in a music box surrounded by caution tape. She sings to her frustrations to soothe the madness. She’s in love with only parts of her identity.

Eyeballing the coordinates

Interpreting and measuring the angles

Shoveled efforts plead cases

in the clay and dim ground

Removed discussions and grief

Presenting facts and disregarding

lethal gut wrenching emotion

Pulling left to be right

Pushing right to be wrong

Winning is irrelevant and misguided

Grazing thoughts of compassion

Understanding points of view

Too much gray between black and white

Indecisiveness stands still

One sided lie

Two sided truths

Equal broken indifferences and shadows

The quiet man is a cerebral hunter. The quiet man gravitates to the intellect. He is absorbed into observing and memorizing behavior. The quiet man is a visionary. The quiet man is complex and fascinated with the dynamics of relationships. The quiet man values quality not quantity. The quiet man sees the world through others. The quiet man seeks purity. The quiet man seeks beauty in all; perhaps he sits silently in the distance. The quiet man seeks simplicity in the complex. The quiet man is methodical and artistic. The quiet man is an optimist and embraces the warmth of humans. The quiet man is not a perfectionist. The quiet man admits when he is wrong and does not judge. The quiet man believes in the phrase “I can”. The quiet man sees the value of stages: growth and the truth. The quiet man reaches for spirituality. The quiet man has high standards and is goal oriented. He believes in equality. He is captivated by harmony and the melody of humans. The quiet man is viewed as an anti-socialist by others, a volcano ready to erupt. The quiet man defies social labels. The quiet man is blind by color, but can clearly see ignorance. The quiet man does not have the answers for everything, but only has perception. The quiet man does not like drama or self-pity. The quiet man is ambitious. The quiet man is shaken by intimacy. The quiet man is disturbed by his emotions. Perhaps the quiet man is tired of how he is viewed and labeled. The quiet man is not quiet. Perhaps no one listens to the quiet man, and how could they? The quiet man’s tongue is burning. The quiet man’s perception of himself is mediocrity. When the quiet man speaks, heads turn. People ignore the quiet man. Nobody cares what the quiet man has to say. He knows how he is viewed and would like the change that perception. As much as he tries to change, the label sticks. The quiet man is invisible. What is the quiet man to do? The quiet man is speechless. The quiet man is patient. The quiet man does not want to be the center of attention, but just to be noticed for something else than being quiet. The quiet man is misunderstood. The quiet man is not superficial. Perhaps others are wearing a mask. Perhaps the quiet man is afraid of what others will say when he speaks. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be himself and be accepted for who he is, not a label. Perhaps we are all labeled in society from the minute we are born; from each stage of life that we enter. Someone gave you a label and it stuck. The reality is that every one of us is different. We are who we are and can’t change that. We like what we like and dislike what we dislike. The minute we speak of it, we are judged not for who we are, but interests. People bond due to interest in general, not for how we approach, live, and manage our lives. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be accepted for who he is…doesn’t anyone care what the quiet man’s perception is? Maybe if we dug beyond the surface of people, everyone is beautiful in some small way. We all have quirks hang-ups, baggage, skeletons in the closets, and that really shouldn’t matter. Does that define who we are? No.

To care is to have patience

To appreciate you have to lose something

To love you have to treasure seconds

To forgive you have to be human

To grow you have to make mistakes

To be kind you have to listen

To be human you have to open up your heart

To gain perspective open up your eyes

To be ignorant close your ears

To be special just be yourself

To live is not to be afraid

To be alive you have to learn to feel