With love anything can be accomplished. It can also be acheived without.

Only kindness without expectation is truly kind.

Money is a means to an end, make it well earned and well spent

All things come to an end, both good and bad. Embrace the inevitable change.

Never let fear dictate your decisions. Courage exists only when afraid.

Honesty is never trivial. Keep the secrets you are given. Truth is a rare gift.

Of all the beauty in life, focus on that which lies within.

Open your eyes to the wonder of the world

Decide for yourself, always. The right path will be the one you choose.

One cell, the ultimate lost cause. Straddling the line between life and death, suffering eternally an existence hedged between realities. Boots marched over the cell, clinging unknowingly to a dead branch frozen stiff in the ice. In spring, it clung still to the melting rot, determined without awareness to survive. A simple goal, yet inconceivable, for what evil forces have kept it down so far would l only grow more vigilant when the cell made itself known.

One ordinary spring day, a mut stopped by that puddle for a quick drink before continuing on its way, taking with him that cell on his journey through the streets. The cell awoke to a dark, moist confusion filled with the dank scent of unkempt canine breath. Threaded still between the boundaries of life and death, the cell picked itself up to try yet again.

It burrowed into a home inside the tissue of the dog’s gums and lived there unassumingly. That is until a bristled monster thrust the cell back and forth until agitating the it from within its house of flesh and forced it flinging into the air. It landed this time inside the moist fluid of a young girl’s eye. Determined again to make a home to just live, the cell wriggled itself onto an eyelash to make a new house.

Helpless to keep the residence that he loves, the cell is washed away when tears fall over a broken toy. The cell falls onto the cold plastic of a Barbie’s thigh, and reverts back to the other side of the fence, doomed to live in the realm of death until chance returns to revive him.

Seven years pass while he lay helpless and dead on the inside of an unused box on the top shelf of a closet. A garage sale is what revitalizes that invisible cell; when the gentle hand of an elderly man raises the barbie and makes the purchase as a gift for his grandchild. The youngster will not be the only one cheered up by this gesture, for the cell has been shocked back to life, and scrambles desperately into a lesion on the senior’s hand.

This time, the cell thinks to itself, I will make a permanent home. I have been tossed around for time untold, never able to find a permanence. Why am I discarded? Does my size make me worthless? Perhaps it was the right call, for when his home was set up on the torn skin of that man’s hand, the cell decided to populate the home he had made.

The yellow, infected puss of the cell’s strength grew evermore. Now, when the elderly man went to scrub away the cell’s walls and roof, it clings tightly to the certainty and life of the flesh. Each time it receives an eviction notice, the cell populated the house with ever-growing tenants of ooze and puss, living beneath their protection.

One day, a well fortified army of anti-microbial fighters sloughed off on the skin cell roof of the its home. Too long have I been dismissed and rejected, the cell thought to itself, passion growing it evermore until a necrotic army of death under that cell's command had overtaken the hand. Determined to no longer straddle the line, the cell thought to himself that the land of the hand was not possibly enough to ensure his safety in the land of the living.

It was time for the crusade. With fervorous desperation, the cell hopped from place to place, populating and abandoning, ensuring a home in spite of the billions of critters that arrive each minute to fight it back to the realm of silence and death. The homes it abandoned to his mindless cellular army decay into a permanent organic death, known not to the cell, only to the host.

Yet the cell was not concerned, he is just one, weak against the army of many, fighting with the righteousness of individual tenacity. The cell carried this flag in the battles against the Goliath ; the trillions of armies of immune systems, medications, and sanitizing agents determined to doom the cell.

The fight for the underdog, the cell is sure, is an honorable one. The numbers swell against the cell, and each time it is more and more determined to not be marginalized due only to size. The cell travels and grows as the truest underdog: unwanted, unloved, and somehow undefeated.

And when finally, after the last of the battles are won, and the enemies of the simple cell's immortality lay in piles by the decrepid billions, victory reigns as no dissent remains to fight. The cell declares itself a winner against unthinkable odds. Yet no one remains to cheer. No organic matter remains to allow the cell to straddle the fence on the side of life. And so it returns to the realm of the dead, to lie in wait until the next chance to show the world the power of one.

Our pony is lost,

once a body, now just frost.

A loss we have all had to know,

yet your too young, so I leave tracks in the snow.

The strange lost pony,

gone to the snow.

I can't have you feel lonely,

I cannot have you know.

The lost pony's body, we buried right here.

Too young you are hon, to have death yet to fear.

So the lost pony becomes an emblem of a great trip.

And you may know him as such, and on faith keep your grip.

Hashtags twinkle in the lights

On the cold and snowy nights.

My insta filled with Christmas Carols,

of strangers' endless holiday travels.

So tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Yeah, tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

My Facebook says holidays,

cookies, candles, friends' kids Christmas plays.

My holidays' digital so lets make it magical.

So tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Yeah, tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Christmas tree memes,

snowed in reindeer dreams.

Vine me with your holiday vibes,

internet age dissolved our old tribes.

So tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Yeah, tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

I know that your with me, however far

My data's enough to high set the bar.

Excitement and parties I do not attend,

Christmas together with my online friend.

So tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Yeah, tag me with spirit, hashtag till I feel it.

Yes tag us with spirit, hashtag till we feel it.

My duty supreme.

Honor my dream.

For freedom and flag.

They gage me a tag.

Instructions to follow,

my mind ready, not hollow.

The courage to listen,

to execute the mission.

Respect not expected, you won’t understand,

the pursuit is not to gain upperhand.

To protect, to assist, to do right

is all I can muster within my small might.

And once I’ve departed,

think not you’ve outsmarted,

the situation that led

to my being dead.

For if not for me and the so many more,

the country would crumble and return to before.

Certainty, logic, reason supreme,

I am a man, discouraged to dream.

In realness I thrive,

wired to survive.

Beauty, emotion, and kindness are power.

I am a woman, a delicate flower.

With feeling I rule,

my heart the main tool.

Two sides to one,

the difference's sum.

When put together,

souls light as a feather.

Yet so incompatible:

the fiction, the actual.

Head in the clouds and feet on the ground.

Headless your trapped, and feetless your bound.

The genders entwined in unending dance.

Will she sway to him? Will he fall to her trance?

Can't be apart and can't be together,

leaving only a storm of indeterminate weather.

Fatigue I can sleep away

But still I'm tired in the day.

I try to write and words elude.

The waking hours just intrude.

Energy remans just out of reach,

Stagnance, weakness, I beseech

Anyone with a small solution

to bring tiredness to dissolution.

I speak to a doctor, just to ask

and they inquire, "have you a task?"

I am to weak to make one I say

they advise to wait until another day

Time cures all is common claim

but time drains equally, strong or tame.

And so my path is TBD

until fatigue gets bored of me.

One step forward. Two steps back.

Can't stay still or you'll attack.

Do I chase you? Or you me?

To dual paths we're doomed to be.

I see you not yet know your there.

And somehow now you're everywhere.

With no denial or affirmation,

my journey just a declination.

Running forward, you elude.

Barrel backwards, I intrude.

I still do chase the mystery,

for when I catch you, I will know me.

Torn shirt, slammed door, lovelorn scratch marks accost me. My heart beat pumps rage to my every cell, entwining with the pleasure of your skin's memory. Twinging in isolation, yearning for your touch to force me to abandon the betrayal. Throat pulsing, spine tingling as you crash through the door, pressing me against the wall, spilling blood red wine.

Your touch seething with desire, I push back to see only the twinkle of yearning in your eyes. Muscle strength and heat of your breath lighten me. I drift as snow to the floor. A shock of pressure flickers lights to my eyes. I forget rage, your rigid shape knows only passion.

I get up on the hour

Hair, teeth and shower.

My job for me chosen.

Apartment one of a dozen.

All out of my control,

yet painfully predictable.

No choices left for me to make,

Except not fried, boiled or baked.

My food is my power.

I pick sweet or sour.

My food is my selection.

So when I deny that confection.

Know that my diet is my true last stand.

From a world that holds me in the palm of its hand.