I am advanced in years
but living many years
does not make me either wise or mature
does not make me advanced
as a person, as a man.

I have known some old fools
and in some ways
(I hate to say it)
sometimes I am one.

I would rather escape
(and I can think of so many ways to do so)
than to live in pain
(my own or someone else’s)
but that is what life is.
Yes, it is true:

Life IS difficult.

Accepting that is one of the hardest things to do.
But it is what real maturity is.
Being down from hurt, pain, and wounds
and just standing up and walking anyway.

I see bumper stickers and signs that say:
“Wounded warrior”
The people who I know
who are the walking wounded
are the beautiful people.
They carry their pain with a crooked, sad smile
as if to say:
"Yes, life is a *****,
but here I am walking through it.
Not so much getting over it
as getting through it.
And Baby, here I am, I am getting through it.
I’m still standing.
I might be limping,
but by God, I’m walking.
I’m walking into today and tomorrow.
And that’s something."

I’ve heard it said:
“Faith is simply to trust the real
and to trust that God is found within it.”
When I have this kind of faith
I’m being mature.
I’d rather be advanced in that way
than to simply be advanced in years.

“Maturity,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier

Would it be insensitive and unkind
to say I don’t like letters enclosed with Christmas cards?
Usually they glow with all the lovely and bright things
in the family that make parents proud.
You don’t hear about the dark underbelly
of their lives that would likely ruin your Christmas mood.
I suppose that is a gift.  But it seems so unreal.  

My wife wrote one this year.
It is mostly about adventures and comic misadventures
in our travels.  
A couple of the stories reveal the raconteur in her
and remind me of her dad who was a master storyteller.
Her letter brings a smile to my face.
But there is too much about my various afflictions -
detracting from my strong male image.
But at my advanced age, I care less about image.
And that’s a good thing.

So this year, have mercy on your friends
and don’t include a letter unless you type:
“Optional Reading” at the top.

Merry Christmas 2017

i want my poems to have teeth.  
i want my words to cut,
to maim, to bleed.
with verses, i will raze
empires. with stanzas,
i will turn thrones to dust.
with nothing but a bit
of silver on my tongue,
i will take the life of god.

i’ll ply that same *****
like honey, taste the sweet
nothings dripping
between knocking knees.
quake and quiver for me,
let me slip, furtive
as nightshade
to sate your curiosity.

feel the weight of veracity
in these fingers patiently
transcribing forgotten melodies,
compressing ivory keys
to sing of all that was lost
and what was gained
from the process.

While he's away, find a friend.
While he's away, find a place.
While he's away, find yourself.

While he's away, be okay.
While he's away, be thankful.
While he's away, be you.

He's not coming back.
Give thanks for that.

i fear that the beauty you see in me
will fade
as soon as you see me undressed
i fear that our forever
won’t be as long as you promised
once you get a taste of my lips
and i blame myself
for not being enough for you
when in reality
i am full
and you are empty
you try and empty me
in order
to fill yourself
i beg you
please
don’t empty me