Life Preserved in Word

Our parents reared us and our kids rear theirs. My friends Gumby and Pokey are now long gone.   Action figures have taken their places. So long video game Pong. Now it’s Play Station that lights up faces. From our kids to their kids who are grand to us They may say you won’t believe this, Our parents wrote with pen on paper to make grocery lists And read from trees turned into books. The way of today may seem foreign and strange. We must learn to navigate that river of change. © David Girard 25/03/15

Can’t stay? Walk away from the one you love. Some say one day it’ll happen again. Will it be someone you know or someone who’s new and true? Will you cry on their shoulder And they smile and laugh with you? © David Girard 30/10/19

Don’t fit the shoe? What to do? Got to be bold so don’t wait ‘til you’re old To break the mold and wear what fits you. Is batting for the other side A loss or gain in pride? Today it’s okay to come out as gay But in yesteryear to get past that fear And admit being queer Would free the hounds at bay Into the fray to erode away Your entire being. “Guilty as Gay.”   © David Girard 25/03/15

To go against the grain may be considered insane But more often than not I forget all that rot To go with my gut and give it a shot Then try hard to accept results good or not.   Agreement is good and fosters harmony.   Conflict may fuel the familiar shame induced pain That seeks in vain to poison and blame Anyone anything nothing will do. Return to sender it comes back like the flu.   The penalty may be severe when I’m true to me So how can it be that I’m thus set free? © David Girard 24/04/15

Sweating all day under the boiling sky we wait ‘til our thirst you slake. Pouring rain we long for you to ooze like dew just a drop or two then slide on in with some drizzling. Our throats are sore as we beg for more, you peter out and we start to shout “Can’t raise no crops, gotta raise some rain. Gotta raise some cain to raise a little rain.” You skirt on by, now we’re sure to fry. We start to cry but the tears are dry. Pouring rain our lives depend on you so come back quick and heal the sick pour for days ‘til we sob and sob wet tears of joy as everything you sate. Pouring rain dictates our fate. © David Girard 19/03/16

I have no advice on how to live life And can sing many songs about what to do wrong. They say live in the present, from day to day. I’m seeking the present that eludes me thus far.   A glimpse of promise appears some distance away. As I draw closer my enthusiam abates. Much smaller than anticipated is this present of fate. ‘You Urned This’ and ‘Enter Here’ are neatly etched into the side of the paltry vat.   “How the hell do I fit into that?” © David Girard 25/03/15

Who questions authority? Some of us do. It might be me or maybe you. Do as you’re told! Up we grew. Don’t conform to the norm, Shame on you! The shoe doesn’t fit. Bear it and wear it! Toe the line, act stoic and brave. Step out of line, one foot in the grave. Or think for yourself, one of the few. That’s what all the great people do. © David Girard 25/03/15

I must be outside to see myself inside looking out. In a place that’s safe for me and everyone else. Three squares a day.   No bills to pay. An array of medicine given three times a day to filter what I think, do and say. Meals planned by a dietician with each food group observed. Pack it all away, return the tray. Day after day nothing much changes… “This is your last day, you can go home now.” Had to survive being in before coming out. © David Girard 20/04/15

My Jesus, My Lord.  Am I destined for hell? Your taste extremely bitter, Intoxicating fragrance can’t smell.   You’re without sin but I wallow in it. I’m the black sheep of the flock in more ways than one.   A man that loves men, that’s what I am.   This you already know as part of your plan.   I must be myself, the best that I can.   When among  others, idly we talk.  Not gospel of song but gossip of rot.   I ponder O Lord, what’s to be my Lot?   Enter a fiery furnace that eradicates me?   Like Judas Iscariot, disgraced and hung in a tree?   Or be the woman at the well that you set free?   Will I become a violent Hitler or a peaceful Ghandi?   I must be myself, the best that I can.  © David Girard 25/03/15

At least once a day A familiar voice visits to say “I’m in your head You’re better off dead Get away from it all” So I take that advice along with my meds Open wide toss them all into the water slide Breakdown consume digest Contemplate meditate ponder “I can live with that.” © David Girard 02/04/15

Use them or lose them to a fog of confusion. Sooner or later marbles are lost and seldom recovered are marbles. © David Girard 26/03/15

Ride the wave while it’s still there, Sun blinded eyes, wind mussed up hair. Rode my share of waves and I readily admit Most came from this chair where I presently sit. © David Girard 25/03/15

G r o w ing bananas? I’ll say! But they’re not esculent today and prodigiously hard to disregard as you slowly g r o w bananas. © David Girard 27/03/15