Gratitude is a Weapon

Amherst, Empowerment, gratitude, Internal Poetry, love, Peace, Poetry, The World is Beautiful

Gratitude is a weapon, keeping eyes sharpened to edge and warmth in its holster.

I’ve taken tabletop infinity for granted.

Food deserving of national prestige has become commonplace, valueless as a plastic swipe to forget. Now, I’m hungry.

My love-saturated heart grew weary of people’s attention, and now it starves for it again.

The space I wished to travel across faster has become fixed and cramped. I yearn to let my roots down to spread and paint the room.

The commodities I scorned as Capitalist I see as luxurious now, in this backwater little kind of town.

And how many more are out there? How many more live under heavier blankets?

It boggles my mind.

It feels like there is so little I know, but I know that gratitude is in order.

So I’ll sit back as I attempt to stretch once again into lotus,

And visit the temple I carry in my chest with affection.

My left eye throbs with the weight of observation.

My body aches with the motion of today.

24 well-spent hours and still, little has changed.

How do I make it past this college dream to fight for the right to keep dreaming afterwards?

How can I build this all up if my surroundings fill me with feelings like additional luggage to unpack?

In a nibble’s fraction of my inability to comprehend the universe around me,

I fail to comprehend the totality of life on Earth- in America, Massachusetts, Amherst or No Bro.

So I thank the air that chooses to bend,

And I thank the inspirations I’ve been forced to leave behind.

I thank the people who have taught me patience and the people who have learned to be patient with me.

I don’t think I thank them enough, so I thank them again for the few and far-between.

May the thankful react live longer than Mother’s Day Weekend.

May our collective gratitude burst forth often, like bundles of light to nag us with sweetness.

So we never have the chance to lose our luster.

I’ll keep the syrup of gratitude at a boil,

So it can splash viscous like water across an infinite tabletop of cups running over,

And melt with abundance through the hardened hearts of the people who need it.

That is how I will fight my wars.

Gratitude is my weapon.

Helter Skelter:

Internal Poetry, love, Nature, Questions, The World is Beautiful

Love. That beer-battered heart in a cage we vilify.

Lefty crushes helter-skelter, bouncing through the willows,

Through pillow talk and talking us down,

I’ve traded my treats for the hilltop bungalow,

Coated in amber, bleeding mauve through the cracks

Of a broken glass sunset.

It’s time to be grateful,

Give heed to the deeds of the lovers above us,

The hour is less than a full night’s sleep away.

The power in my chest is a dull plight’s steep decay.

The dour sung frets come full sky scenes to play.

Like yesterday,

I fummeled with redness

And pummeled my headrest,

So the only sleep night’s fair

Is a sleep’s nightmare.

My antagonists are into it,

They’re masochists, they go away.

The field is petals

Of rose and gunmetal,

The incubus Fahrenheit

Has me in its iron sight

It’s there and trite, they’re not welcome here today.