I Can Count

to four

First, Poem:

Good Grief, Everyone, Just, Please,
At Minimum, Do Whatever it is 
that You Need to Do so You Don’t 
Shoot Someone, Like Maybe Take
an Assessment of Your Life and 
Add a Little Time to Pause/Pray/
Breathe; Some People Do Yoga,
That Seems Nice; Maybe the Noise
of a Washing Machine is Soothing
to You; You Be You; Maybe, if You 
are Having Thoughts of Violence, 
Just, Don’t Buy a Gun or Touch Your
Gun, Maybe Sell Your Gun or, Just, In 
General, Don’t Spend Time Alone
With Your Gun; Everyone, if We All,
Just, Take a Moment to Reflect on
Our Lives and the Lives of Others
With Some Sort of Gracious Outlook,
Like, Thanksgiving, Maybe, Just, Maybe
We can Live in a More Decent World.

“When you feel so mad
That you want to roar
Take a deep breath
And count to four”
-Daniel Tiger

One…
Two…
Three…

Notes:

My friends, Taylor and Andrew, wrote some words a little over a year ago, and I recommend them for your eyes. I re-read some of Taylor’s poetry this week, and, in reading it, the world became a more decent place. Look for her stuff. It’s good for the soul stuff.

The header for this week’s post comes from a song by the satirical metal band, Psychostick. The song is called “Numbers.” It doesn’t make the world a more decent place, and probably isn’t good for my soul, but it makes me laugh.

In wordy wordiness,

Walter