national poetry month

national poetry month
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Sunday, May 1, 2016

What Really Is Success?

Questions... of sufficiency
Wonders of job and insurance
with and without privilege
I would still try, I would still try to rise

I hope I would still try to create place for me
For doctor's visit or barroom brawl
I hope I would still try to create space for me
In a headspace of doubts or despair
I hope I would still try to create time and grace
To express Me.

Because I am Not alone
I am me and so they are human questions of independence
Human and humane to ask what can I do against the odds
Human and humane to care

But mustn't we also ask, what really is success?
Because sometimes in definitions of noRmal...
We too are the gatekeepers and landsurveyors
The purveyors of independence

So I would ask you to redefine success
I would ask you to seek what you mean by wealth
Often what we buy is neither what we get or make
What with the slick adverts these days

I would ask you to redefine success
Because I myself am not wealthy, but I have weal
Because I myself am not healthy, but I can heal
And all these things I lack, I yet possess

How can those opposites be possible without my making
Time and Space for me to grace the places without and within
Because it is I, too, the defines what is normal
I, too, create abundance in worlds of vitality
And so I, too, have an important voice as do you
In what is success, or even what is healthy

And your specific questions of independence?
Is a human and humane question
And probably the question of every American

Here's what I come up with:
jobs that heal one as they work at it
employer supported employment
low-stress volunteer work

There's Success to me who's seen idle time crush him
The silence stuff his ear until I was deaf
Seen the love snuffed out by greed
Seen the soul split open by war

But I would also see questions aired
through CBT and family counseling and peer support.
perhaps DBT philosophically with lots of love and hope
You might only have one job, but There you probably have lots of tools
And so it is with me and my life

I have a toolbox, Please take it not away.
And take not my memory..
For in it I keep my pets..
In it I have my peer support..
There's a therapist somewhere kind of beaten..
A family of screws, a couple of frames for pictures..
A typewriter for expression, an internet for connection..
A couple of stopgaps, a couple of shims made from beercans...
Some finished puzzles, a library of poetry from world to street to Hugo...
There's a couple of letters from my school, a diary, a journal...
The books I've made, and the books I want to make,
The art paints and brushes,
Quite a bit of confidence,
Some doubters-grease,
There's flowers I buy for myself,
There's some DVD's I'd recommend,
A lot of turning points, some silver linings,
A final fantasy with spirits within,
Some time I keep to spend with family and friends,
Some time I keep just for you.

I mean it's a real toolbox!!
And I could seperate them into the physical
The emotional, the mental, the social, and spiritual tools
And some people probably do, but who .really does?

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