Shine On


Shine on, shine on, shine on me
Shine your light on me
Light me up, cast away my doubts
Lift me out of these shadows
I’m ready, I’m ready, please shine your light on me.


Be well,

Monty


An Observation and a Query


A fly walks by.
S t r e t c h i n g
Its legs, I guess?


Be well,

Monty


A Gentle Drizzle Sets the Scene


A gentle drizzle sets the scene;
The last of the season’s persimmons hang-on,
Half-concealed behind leaves shimmering under
A quiet concert of pitter-patter percussion.

In quick succession a jack-hammer jacks,
A jet’s engine whines,
And wheels whirl along the moist road beyond the wall
Adding their own interpretation to the unwritten music.

This must be the chorus as there they go again
The jack, the whine, and the whirl
Until a tightly cadenced thwack-thwack-thwack
Interrupts as a train speeds by.

A tiny red spider crawls across my keyboard.
My fingers dance around it as I tap-tap-tap
My own contribution to the score,
Until again the jack, whine, and whirl take over.

Pitter-patter jack whine and whirl, tap-tap-tap.
Pitter-patter jack whine and whirl, tappity-tap-tap.
An unexpectedly perfect lullaby as I settle down to nap.


Be well,

Monty


The Birds


The birds are watching me from the wire above.
What are they thinking? Do they see my sadness?
Or are they too busy balancing in the breeze?

The birds have moved on. Perhaps to a more sturdy perch.
Or maybe just down the wire for a better outlook —
Bored by my melancholy.

Do the birds even care what we do down here? Are they aware of our envy? To fly far away at a whim? To leave the ground behind and discover what’s beyond the horizon?

I’m precariously balancing upon a wire. Electricity coursing through. The ground is calling for me to complete the circuit. The sky is calling for me to fly.

Tell me birds…shall I try?


Be well,

Monty


Mired in Mud


Mired in mud.
I don’t like this feeling, but I appreciate the alliteration.
Mired in mud, mud, mud.
Stuck in repetition.
Mired,
So tired —
In mud
Of sins gone stale,
Mud
Stuck thickly to my soles
Mud
Prints circling from my heals to my toes
As I spiral slowly inward into myself till I reach my limit.
So tired.
Mired
In Mud.


Be well,

Monty


Let Me Be (Note to Self)



Let me be angry.
Without good reason.
Let me be lonely
Even if not alone.
Let me be sad
Just because I am.
Please,
Let me be.

Be well,

Monty


Morning Cocktail


Morning Cocktail

3 parts Zoloft
1 part Abilify
Mix meditatively and pray for help with my unbelief
Dilute to taste and swallow (along with my pride)
Assume Peaceful Warrior position
Accept the things I cannot change
Open my heart to receive YOU’RE help
Add one mug of dark bold coffee, black
“WE’VE got this!”


Be well,

Monty


Rhyming Inventories


A Rhyming Inventory of Things I’ve Not Been Doing Because They Would Make Me Feel Better (and I Don’t Deserve To)

1. Prayer or meditation
2. Take my medication
3. Yoga stretches (or any type of physical elongation)
4. Therapeutic conversation
5. Writing, drawing (i.e., artistic expression)

A Rhyming Inventory of Things I’ve Done Today to Feel Better (Despite I Still Don’t Feel I Deserve To)

1. Prayerful meditation
2. Took my medication
3. Walked around the block (a type of physical elongation)
4. Had a therapeutic conversation
5. This writing (a bit of artistic expression)


Be well,

Monty


Poetic License


I applied for my poetic license today;
It was rejected due to a grammatical error.
Oh,
The irony.


Be well,

Monty


REDACTED


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Be well,

Monty