They can lend confusion to illusion,
Fill their bucket up with acid rain,
Erode the hope with holes, always half-empty,
Then whinge the whine to hear themselves complain.
They can take, from distance, and from closer,
Syphon off my positivity,
Tell me I’m a dreamer, they’re a realist,
Well, shucks, that’s rich, I feel their negativity.
So, yeah, it’s hard, ’cause life is hard, no karma,
No luck, no change, ‘no nuthin’, their war cry.
So, suck it up, the train’s the same for all of us,
Just do it, this is life, just do or die.
I’m seeking out the people who have patter,
Some humour with my daily dose of politics,
Poets who encapsulate ideas, without depressing,
Essayists who rarely miss a trick.
I’m looking to the loving and the hopeful,
The serious, the humans in my midst,
Who can argue for a cause and give their reasons
And can do so without always sounding pissed.
I’m looking to the pictures that inspire me,
The photo journalists who see all life
Through lenses, filtered to advantage,
Depicting the beautiful that’s rife.
I’m topping up my bucket, mainly half-full,
Filling it to flowing with fresh hope,
Negating all the negative surrounding
Before I cut myself a length of rope.
I’m finished with the suction they enjoy so,
The leeching from my spirit for their fight,
I’m complaining here and then I’m through, for nothing
I can say or do is ever really wrong but never right.
Unfollowing, ’cause I am done with whiners,
Not the hurt who try and stoically march on!
But the people who can only peddle sorrow,
And share their pain as salve to ego torn.
My own fault, I guess, why did I follow,
Believing somehow I could ease their pain,
I’ve learned that only selves can change their own selves,
My presence there is futile, no one gains.
I must confess a luxury in dissing,
In doling out the lessons hardily won,
I’ve been there, no wish to recreate it,
Embraced a different mindset. Now I’m done.
scottishmomus 