#people

HOW DO WE MEASURE UP?

The true measure of the greatness of a person, 

a town, 

a city, 

a country…

a people

is not in the fortunes we amass…

not in caring solely about ourselves

 

No

 

hopefully 

we will find…

before we are deceased…

the true measure of the greatness of a person

a town,

a city,

a country,

a people…

is in how we treat those less fortunate than us…

 

those who have the least.


THE PEOPLE WE PASS EVERY DAY

We would exchange greetings…but only for a moment

as we pass on our walk every day.

We could tell she’s a little older than us, 

her hair is white…while ours is a little bit grey

 

The other morning after years of passing by

trading a wave, a nod and a smile.

we decided to get to know her…

so we stopped and talked for awhile.

 

We talked about life and children.

She told stories from her past.

She was happy to talk…we were happy to listen

and the time seemed to fly by so fast.

 

We found out many things about her…

so many big things in a little while

and somewhere in the stories she told 

we found the reason for her smile.

 

Now when we run into each other

on our early morning walks

sometimes we wave and smile…

other times we talk.

 

Which makes me wonder wouldn’t the world be a happier place

If somewhere along the way

more people would stop and take the time

to know the people they pass every day.

 

 

 

View joy's Full Portfolio

Scarlets

 

 

 

Lights are low

Cast red ember reflections on
faces

And in pupils of eyes.

 Always muggy, sweaty – a pressure

In the air.


Breathless, gasping for
oxygen.

Diamond shapes in stockings
and

Glitter on their eyelids.

An elevated self-confidence in

Their strides.

A few hours, one night only.

A week.

For silhouettes of testosterone
dreams

On silver poles and shiny
floors.

For musty men

Thinking nothing only, only

(Children back at home,

dark black bedrooms).

In their element

Down the notes fall

And tuck themselves into bras,

Or thongs.

Rent money

Lost and rent money gained

A circle of life and motion

Of ass.

Round like pearls

Trapped here in the name of

Money.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had an urge to write about strippers or strip clubs, probably because Pyramids by Frank Ocean was playing in the background. I get fascinated when I try to imagine what that environment might feel like, to the people that work there and to those that go (and why they do). Personally, pole dancing amazes me and I admire the women who just go out there and do expose themselves so confidently.

View ksdw's Full Portfolio