I was weak with sweats and dreaming.

In a fever wretched with guilt.

No one spoke or shared a thought.

Not a whisper, and silence built.

I was swimming in a blue zone.

Dark hues spun and mixed with grays.

The smell of fear filled our lungs.

Not one thought of brighter days.

Here it is, soon Christmas Eve.

First year without a tree.

The world didn’t end, and I’m still here.

So many things are still to be.

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.

All is quiet here at mid-day.

Had my fill of sleep and dreams.

The plot was holding true to form.

Not a thing is as it seems.

We all smile for masks and photos…

Except the ones who care no more.

They stand screaming in the shadows.

Outside the corner coffee store.

The poverty is crippling.

The addictions sing and dance.

Me, I’m with my baby.

Keeping quiet, Second Chance.

They are winning without power.

Smiling without joy.

Waiting for the perfect hour.

To pillage and destroy.

I’ve been typecast as the villain.

By the Liar and the Thief.

I’m not immuned to all that Killin…

Guilty conscience is my grief.

Dennis Mantin

In the land of faith and plenty.

Some say you never knew.

To look the ‘Gift Horse’ in the mouth.

Bit off more than cud could chew.

You sat in view of judgments.

In the fields, you moo out loud.

If you are standing in the spotlight.

Just tell them you are proud.

She was wide on bathroom stairwell.

Painful slow in her decent.

Impatient from all the waiting.

She zigged, I zagged, and down she went.

I called for reinforcements

Had a piss but not too long.

Please come to Gus’s Taco.

And bring someone who is strong.

My mother referred to going on vacation to see her family as a ‘Change of Work.’

She recognized that there’s always work to be done and always there will be people that work falls to and others it doesn’t.

I appear to be one of those people who carries this load despite efforts in my younger life to avoid such tasks…

How I was made to feel guilt for my laziness with repeated lectures by the workers, and I find myself now saying similar things to my kid.

“Can you not do something to help?”

Which leaves me wondering if maybe I should try to break this cycle of griping and grief and just shut the fuck up and do what needs to be done? ?

Said they wanted story.

But the story wasn’t short.

In all, it’s pain and glory.

Was less story, more report.

I wasn’t in a giving mood.

My moods were out of sort.

Accusations that I was rude.

I am, too tall? I must retort.

There is something in the water.

In the air like flakes of snow.

Take the narrow to the broader.

I’m just learning letting go.

You are cold, and you are distant.

It’s all tell now and no show.

If I were just more consistent.

I could teach this letting go.

There’s a moral to this story.

Builds a plot like mold will grow.

There’s no need to say you’re sorry.

You taught me well this letting go.

I am cold and I am distant.

I’m all tell now and no show.

You teach well, so persistent.

Such a gift this letting go.

They held on with great fury.

Leaving marks of letting go.

And the blood it stained: don’t worry.

All scars heal, don’t you know?

They were courting with disaster.

Then again, was nothing new.

On the street, he walked right past her.

There were smiles. Resentments grew.

They got old and lost all memories.

In the end, they up and died.

They were buried by their enemies.

And in their eulogies, they all lied.