Chicken Soup for the Brain

When the days are hijacked
By your own in- competencies
And smiles turned down
Scared to look in their eyes

When the joy of victory
Is only half hearted
A nervous cheer
Justifying what is not required

The ugly compromise
Of mediocrity, and faded yellows
Purpose less droopy eyes
And a skeleton will to support the sight

What would it take?
To hold the self in high regard
To worship the ego
To reject this tragic – self suicide

To create dissonance,
When the drive overrules conventions
And the follies of the mind
Find no time in the play of life

The ugly compromise
You can well be a thought out choice
But the liberty to excel
Is a right, only the brave will exercise

As  the days go by
And mediocrity takes it toll
Dear, little mind
Take heed
The jaded doesn’t mean corrupted
And paucity doesn’t mean demise

The absolute reality, distant as it might seem..
Is that a true purpose will find its means

When fear becomes nostalgia
And spirit an unfettering beast
When the average is provoked
And critiqued into submission
Is when the self will come to be

When remorse is not at the days end
But for the end of limited days
When the ugly compromise
Is dead and buried
The many personal victories
Paying homage everyday

Dear, little mind
Take heed
Compromises don't meet finality
And fate remains fluid
Till you color the ugly
Till you accept the deal

Push and Drive

Of passions that sedate you
At the brightest hour
Of people who remind you
Of your glorious past

Of hidden boxes
With the clippings
And the little
Make up box

Of the theatrics of the day
And sarcasm of the night
A little bit of reality,
Thrown in the way

Of the way I look at you
And the way I look at everyone
A little bit of amusement
To make it just right

The part is all ready
I am prepared to play
But perhaps, a day or two
These fools can wait

The stakes are high
And I have myself to please
If only,
The mind would comply
Feed into the passion
Numb the fear blind

Of the one final outcome
And the momentary flight
When objects become illusions
And I craft the meaning of time

Of the curtain call
The applause
And the inevitable,
Fall back to black and white

Of passions
That sedate you
At the brightest hour
And outcomes that lure you
To search the soul dry

Of the exhaustion of unrest
And fighting yourself
Of the song of the phoenix
And the melody of life