Bend over and take it,
fake it
if you have to
…do
whatever you can to
make it through.
Prove you’re strong,
capable…powerful.
An eternal optimist, that’s you —
truth over obstacle.
If it’s possible,
it’s probable…
and you’re claiming it.
Name it,
and it will be.
There’s nothing in your way,
see
what you’ve accomplished?
The world will be astonished
set aflame,
step up to the plate, son
this ain’t no game.
You’ve got to run if you want to make it.
There ain’t no other way to say it.
So just bend over,
and take it.

This poem…

What if our words are like a seed?
Once planted, rooted, none can see,
the roots that grow both far and wide —
for nourishment, they should provide.

But what if seeds were caustic things,
sprouting roots with venomous stings
inflicting pain on those who dare
to trim the weeds with loving care.

Would not one day our forests be
dark pathways of disparity
with wounded trees, in desperate need
of tenderness on which to feed?

Oh, listen now, of this take heed
in life, you’re given just one seed.
So, plant your words with seeds in mind. …