The Antisocial Hug

I kept my head down today,

As I walked by the icy stare still seemed to crack my armor, berate my heart, and send shivers down my soul.

The first was an old man whose stare told a story of his own woe, how his business would of succeeded if not for those lazy workers. So all shall be shunned, stunted and maimed, for on that day his revenge became plain.

The second was a woman with hair flowing down, the gaze too was cruel with anger it abounds. Her friend was the lucky one with money and fame, in which one day she hoped to she share but was instead shamed. Told her nose was too sharp, her eyebrows thick, and now she looks down on everyone and critiques their Schtick.

The shuttering terror on felt in this most antisocial day, was unlike any other, even the lights looked dismayed. I formed a bubble, shell, which still through it the gazes fell. I moved away and through but the pressure ensued. My heart fluttered as the next arrived preparing with sadness for the snide.

But there was none before I looked up I felt an aura warm and accepting, was I going crazy or succeeding at deflecting, I peel lightly up at the person standing there. Hoping my guess would be true. It was a faithful friend of which a lot I had been through. They gazed upon me with a smile and said I haven’t seen you in a while. Their arms outstretched, it was a hug I would get. They squeezed tighter and tighter, and the horrors of the world got lighter. The held me till I held back, and I felt relief at last.

So remember there are people out there who care for you. And if you feel troubled you can care for yourself too. You have too arms which will reach tight around, because a hug is love and it’s always profound.

The Party at the End

It’s like a winters night, as the day fades away, temperatures plummeting, snow becomes icy, trees that haven given their last leaves dot the horizon. The air slows to a stop, it’s so cold that nothing moves, and the darkness creeps in like the dirt on top of you.

I had visions of this day and what the tears must say.

I had a legacy to reveal, which should of paid for my meals.

I thought my heart would be heavy at the end,

Maybe there would be a light from above like a godsend.

But instead it was happy,

The relief of the world filled my eyes as I ascended to the sky. My heartache and strife dissipated that night. It was like melting snow as it flows out from my heart like the streams of blood that now depart. There was not one whimper from me, because I lived a hard life you see, full of failures and wrongs. Wrongs sometimes as big as King Kong.

So why should it be celebrated,

Not reborn or regurgitated?

Because sentience is a gift,

Because contemplation is a gift,

And with these I grew,

With these new lines of thought ensued.

My heart poured over the turmoil,

Mind my raced for solutions,

Getting ever closer to conclusions,

And it’s that life is love,

And it’s that everyone needs a hug.

Our furrowed brow beats heartily on the world, and powers beyond our control, bring misery to bear.

Even soaked in blood the marginalized will rise, to proclaim peace and love, even when they have tears in there eyes.

These people are to be celebrated,

Their demand should of been satiated,

But it was not in vain,

even if the powers have not wained,

Because their hearts and ideas were passed on,

Into a new fawn,

One growing with strength,

As the next generation begins to quake.

So even if their life is short we must all partake,

To celebrate hope,

Not to mope,

To proclaim the change,

Even if the strong are deranged,

Because the legacy of life,

Should be to rise above strife,

The legacy of love,

should be given to all above,

So that one day compassion can rise,

To care for all throughout time.

Grouping Mean

Why are others evil,

Why do they throw their hate?

Dismayed by the violence,

Or rushed to the triumph,

Why am I under their shoe,

Like some sort of retail glue,

Their brazen gaze,

And vomitess words,

The hot levels of entitlement,

Their borish bicuspid biting spittle,

As they continue to think the world is their throne.

I never wanted to blame a group in mass,

But this is description of a behavior at last,

Why do some find it ok to force their way,

To fight and to smite and beat us till we are slayed?

Is it that Warish gene that helped us survive,

In the time of giant lizards and monsters combined?

Or is it that they too were once treated this way?

And if that’s the case would another smack change their say?

But alas when I look at the ones like these,

I find zero self reflection,

No care of the self,

Unless the need the status,

And have to tighten their belt.

So I guess I have to address them directly right now,

I know you feel you need knighthood to make people bow,

But the truth is that we need everyone in the end,

And only through compassion can we make friends,

But you’ll want to know how this will help thee,

If you are nice they will want to pay your fee,

If you pay fairly they will be able to afford it times three,

If you care they will not you will see.

When the world works together every one can find prosperity,

A world United is a world without fighting,

We can move pass the wars,

Pass the scores,

And work together,

So that everyone gets better.

The Powered Down Juice Machine

It sits quietly with a hum after breakfast is no more,

There is no shine, even in the twilight with an expression forlorn,

But this machine tell you of the evils of the world in the hotel which it stands,

It can tell you of people to proud, that bite your hand.

As the first literate chauvinist approaches it reveals its stand,

They jab their digit in reveal the blood in a cup grand,

Ignoring the rules and others plight,

You can see how this person is sure they have the right,

Their power they do lord over all around pronouncing they are better even though they are a manure hound.

Next comes a chap who see the dim,

Checks his watch and grins,

For it is just a half an hour,

Till the juice machine begins to cower with a light glow,

At least for people in the know.

This chap does grandly tip,

And with a quip, thanks everyone quick,

And with this sip he gets the sweetest juice ever known.

So why have I regaled you with the tale of the juice machine?

Because with humanities light it separates as it gleans.

The first being the evil and borish of the land,

Spit and smiting sometimes even biting, these are the ones with an evil stand,

They need to be forgotten and have their powered removed,

Because it is these very people that create the word abused.

The second one being kind,

Often over looked by time,

They are the gentle ones,

Who care about to what others succumb,

They need to be raised,

They need to stay,

Because maybe one day,

They can help us to become better in a way.

So the next time you feel the upheaval of a monster trudging on the backs of the primeval,

Look to their tracks and find the one who gave up their back,

Because that was the true sacrifice,

That is the one you can depend on to always be the nicest.