..... poetry .....



"Your Judge"

It's the elephant in the room, this room,
   Your Judge.

Every breath you take, you breathe
   Your Judge. 
Every thought you think, you think with
   Your Judge.
Each heartbreak, each victory.
Each attempt to finally "get it right", stands before 
   Your Judge.

Though you can't see it, you can certainly feel it,
   because your Judge demands respect.
Like a hungry tiger, a bored python,
   or a rogue CIA operative
   who refuses to stand down...
Your own private 24-hour Fox News talking head, 
   or late night tele-Evangelist.
Yes, your Judge can be so many things:
   your financial advisor, your fitness guru, 
   your dating coach, your tour guide, your H.R. supervisor,
your slack master, your fortune teller, your Dear Abby,
   your Marlboro Man, 
   or your very own
   Mother Teresa.
Relentlessly feeding you 
   admonishment, applause, and advice
                             along with
   promises, protests, prescriptions, and praise.    

Your Judge's mission is unswerving:
   * to keep you out of this holy moment,
   * to make you distrust your innate knowingness,
   * and to uphold standards of behavior you had
      absolutely no part in creating.

This Judge is the ultimate
   '365-Day Santa Gone to The Dark Side'
   because it always knows when you've been naughty,    
   and when you've been nice.

When it attacks you, its heat-seeking missile finds that 
   little nugget of truth from the situation and BLAM !, 
   it hits,
   it hurts, 
   it sticks to you,
   and sets your mind racing.

Like early rock 'n' roll, you only have 3 options to respond—
   * play an E7 chord - collapse & complain, or
   * play an A7 chord - rationalize & justify, or 
   * play a B7 chord - counterattack & blame others.

Try to lock up your Judge and it just slips out of its cage
   to watch you struggle,
   and then plays cards with other Judges for laughs.

Your Judge can't help
   that it's the original 'psychic auto-immune disease', 
   causing you to reject yourself
   and put the health of your Soul in peril.
After all, we're all J.U.D. positive.

So how is it that my Judge let this unpolished poem
   see the light of day ? 
Let's say, we have an understanding...

February 2015




©2015, Michael Smolens