Chuck the Crutch

There are no gods, nor are there magic rings.
That doesn't mean that Life is sham and bust.
Ceasing certain vices, and learning things
about awakening, kicks butt on fairy dust.

Severely honor Grace, believing that,
to be the root from which the flowering tree
of all that we can be, grows forth. Our gnat
brains at the start, drag baggage and debris.

They need a teacher's touch, housekeeper's arm,
and striving mind, to build a conscious Will.
At present, and until we buy the farm,
we must devote much patience, strength and skill

to endlessly unsnarl and repair
the never easy, ever changing snags,
that seek defeat, and spread out fresh despair.
The skunks, skullduggery, and scallywags

that prowl our daytime Dark, must be ID'd
and culled. Big mistake to think you are alone
within your head. Your lobbyists stampede
to steer your thoughts, thus keep you in the 'zone'.

A battleplan to liberate the true
and royal road to zenith states of soul,
must be put into play, elsewise real you
ends life a sad and shallow soul-troll.

With dignity, invincible and pure,
The spirit of a man is naked grace.
Though bullied and betrayed, its gentle face
endures internment in men's worst manure.