All very true. I am glad you have realized this. I am sorry for feigned abuse formed by correlative assumptions and ideologies that is all I can give you, the rest is up to you and the other 6.7 billion on this world. There is not on any occasion a happy ending. Yet, by my enculterization and wronged definments there is one an element of emotion found in crevices and moments spurned to keep a man moving , and two a void that binds events and people through such correlative events and moments. Finding and adhering to such is up to you. Most people have a gaping hole and are trying to fill. Those that grasp the hole is not on any occasion filled are a lucky lot. Yet it befalls a sense, that a definment of caring exists in that crevices. In duty and ideal , a chance , a hand, a nod, a smile, a rising up, a sun light a catch, the full moon on a special night, sounds of silence. Some need to be shown the way, wrenches need turned and thrown, people, minds, hearts, worlds, freed, bothered , touched. Choice is given, but rarely exploited. Humanity is to Ire, and Irv, and Irk. If not what point would there be in anything in the first place. In madness we hope and glimpse and clutch. For what , a midsummer’s dream, a parallel of stars, Ubersmach. Or a the greatest unfathomable possibility of all , to exist and stand and shout. The material, is only rivaled by the mental, and the spiritual that is the power source for both. What is there to say, anything or nothing for that matter. Only you can decide. Choose again is a ill but powerful thing to say. Although Descartes is very hard to beat. Good luck, may your publishing go well, For the truest writer is not made for the time they are born. There works are uncovered in dusty tombs, and forgotten libraries, for the wise and foolish folk, to inspire and kindle the cycle again. For the world needs its play writes, it also needs its prophets and disciples, and madmen. For without man the wizened fool born of sacred women the defined world would not exist and utterly sentience the most unwholesome yet bounteous concept in perception conceivable would not flourish in any non definment of anything. You just got to take the right step.

Humanity I see you as you are.
All money time and heart can’t satisfy
your all-consuming greed


Where is the balance?
The care for others?

Human, not Humane.
Open you heart, and it will be broken.
Release your mind, and it will be abused.

Offer your soul only to lose it.
caring is foolishness,
hope for love is vain.
--None can love; there are no happy endings.
only mourning, in different forms.

A father loves a child, but cannot save her
even from himself.
in fear of loneliness we cling to our companions,
our love and theirs all lies.

greed and fear is all we truely feel...


...but this is what I am, what you are …so what?

with all my greed and fear shall go on loving you
as my bother in this impossible predicament we live :D

*hugs*
(sorry. too much school makes Jo a rude re-worder of poetry)

i never reword my poetry, what you see is what you get. each is a one time one shot show.

good for you, I approve of never rewording.

but I have fun rewording also it's an interesting way to explore a poem, to go "what would I have done different?

self centered, but oh well...I read an thought about everything you said as I was erasing it, really I did.

I think despite the overwhelming depressingness of humanity, I've found that, very rarely, something shows me that there is a great deal of hope hidden behind shy faces. They just need to learn that it's ok to do the right thing.

I fear that people no longer know what the right thing is anymore.

They need to read more Babar.