You say that you’re proud 
That I’m by your side 
You shout it out loud 
While your chest being wide

Am I your crown
Making you feel like a king
Or just a bangle 
Adoring you but meaningless

Am I the light 
Of the candle that illuminates you 
Or just the wax 
The leftover after the fire burns out 

I question myself 
I have all these doubts 
They sit on the shelf 
Covered by clouds 

I think what would be 
If it was not me 
Would you be still happy
If I was nobody

When I was younger the quiet scared me,
Demons running wild in my head constantly.
I’m older now and they cannot ruin me like they once did.
My past demons can no longer touch me,
For I am enough in his eyes.

~sdr

I walked the street,

               I was the lottery,

and when you span the wheel


you were a winner...

Jackpot, you got all the chambers..


And I wept..

So we call a human being a peasant. How demeaning of us!
You and I are **** not to some, but to many. How is it that
the world is so contorted, so denigrating? There are millions of
us living here on this planet, and when millions call each other
beggars, rapists, thugs, how did we get that way? The answer
is we lost our way millennia ago. There have been those who
chose to enlighten us, but in disgust, we murdered them and
their messages of love. Jesus did not tell those who gathered
round him how to get rich:  He told them to love one another.
Gandhi showed the world that all are one, regardless of the
color of our skin or our religions being different. And Martin
Luther King tried to turn his dream into reality, a totality of
human worth, and died on a balcony for his courage. The
scourge is in our hearts. A peasant is as worthy as a king.
His pleasantry is his inviolate, sacred worth that he shares
with all others.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

This girl refuses to spend
anymore of her life
kneeling in the dirt,

tending to others needs
before my own.

My spine will not be bent
so others can stand tall.

I am worth so much more than that.

Walking on your every breath,
          can I taste you upon I...

On the promenade of your
                                            words.
          It's a long walk,
but I take every step slowly.

As I'm the only one here  
                               listening to
                     what you say to I.

                      I've spoken to you,
but its like my breath is a ghost
of falseness,
and you either
               don't want to see or ignore I.

How can it be that I wonder
        upon you,
yet I'm not worth the stride to see
           what my words mean to I.