Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.


Will You Please Think Again

No one’s problem is quite the same, even if it be so in name,
For many forms, and various strengths, simply make it not the same.
Yes, complexities within each mind, and within our bodies too,
Come tailor-made in so many ways that make me, me, and not you.

Thus, what may well be short for you, for another may well be long,
Or what effects a cure in you, for another soul could be wrong.
And for some folk it's a battle that persists throughout all their days,
While for many other people, it's simply just a passing phase.

Yes, for some it is just the blues, while for others it’s darkest night,
Thus, many can see a rainbow, but to others, there seems no light.
Therefore, judging their experience as being just the same as your own,
May make their struggle much harder, and leave them feeling more alone.

You may think that you have the answer, but in fact, you may be wrong,
For although the tune may seem the same, does every same note belong?
You see, though an apple's an apple, not all apples taste the same,
And therefore, our opinions are often best kept where they can’t maim.

If you think that it’s self-pity that is keeping them where they’re at,
They can tell you very clearly that their suffering’s not worth that!
There are always those who think they've the answers to another's woe,
But could they be that very person, soon their words would cease to flow.

One day it might surprise you if affliction that's the same as theirs
Suddenly right out of nowhere in your much brighter life appears.
And therefore, it really doesn’t pay to boost another’s aching
By some wrong word or action, thinking that it’s of their own making.

If they were you, it may well be so, that some changes could be made,
But as they’re not, please don’t burden them with those things that they can't trade,
For often they would swap (if they could) their life and circumstances,
But such folk well know that such thinking so, simply just romances.

It’s true that some people must accept a certain degree of blame
For the state that engulfs them now, and the trouble that shortly came.
However, though that be the case, the results can be excessive,
And sometimes the hardness others display, makes their plight progressive.

Many folk do the best that they can, which is all that one can do,
And although it may be less than you, such you shouldn't misconstrue,
For any wrongful expectations will just fuel their daily pain,
And even cause their steps to falter, or remaining hope to drain.

Although you may not understand, you can still show them that you care,
Via an arm around their shoulder, so that they’ll feel your presence near.
And sometimes it’s not words they're wanting, but love expressed in motion,
Which often does these folk far more good, such being the needed potion.

Genuine love is not selective, and certainly doesn’t feign,
And though frustrated or rejected, its persistence doesn't wane,
Thus, even when the one that it's helping it doesn't understand,
It sets aside its misgivings and just gives them a helping hand.

And remember that the one who’s helped, could have others in their care,
Thus, through aiding such a one, you may well answer another's prayer.
Yes, life is really just a circle, and a circle has a way
Of blessing all those who take time to help someone who can’t repay.

By Lance Landall

Re Michael Jackson

Whether you’re a Michael Jackson fan or not, you’ve got to admit that his life was indeed a tragedy,
And by that I mean, he really didn’t stand a chance — well, seemingly so — lost in a world of fantasy.
Such was possibly his way of coping, or was he searching? — a little boy lost — damaged internally,
Yes, not only disfigured facially, sadly — but also scarred, messed up, and tortured emotionally.

And who knows why, exactly? — although there is a degree of evidence, and certain clues — but even so,
For there’s always more beneath the surface — such being, that complexity that's within the human mind, and oh,
How deep some wounds can be — that even midst genius — can have folk acting oddly, bizarrely and wrongly,
And then due to such behaviour, cruelly ridiculed by a world that doesn’t understand such injury.

And without excuse, for even if not understanding such folk, we should never treat the damaged cruelly,
But rather, should try to understand them — at least as much as one can — thereby acting compassionately.
For why on Earth add to someone’s injury, and didn’t he suffer enough, having to live with it all?
Perhaps a vulnerable, insecure and frightened soul, who into some comfy hole, may've wished he could crawl.

Yes, outwardly displaying a certain confidence, but inwardly crying, caught between two worlds, somewhat,
And midst it all, doing certain things — some of them claimed, some not — that his life, character and career would blot.
And then his death — its timing an outrage, some would say — but isn’t that the way it goes — and why? — well, who knows,
For such is so often the way with the emotionally injured, on whom life such tragedy bestows.

By Lance Landall

Sad to say, Michael Jackson dabbled in the occult from where it appears some of his music emanated, and such is no doubt one reason why he deteriorated over time.


Imagine Being Me

Have you ever stopped to think, friend, how you would feel if you were me,
Especially considering that myself I can only be?
There’s not a thing that can be done to ever change me into you,
So, please consider carefully what to me you might say or do.

In fact, deep within my heart, I might wish that I could be like you,
But just accepting who I am is something I must learn to do.
You’ll make it so much easier if you will just accept me too,
Allowing me to be myself, and I, the same allowing you.

I’m just simply how I am — I’m me — and while changes can be made,
Any wrongful expectations will only see us both dismayed.
Certain things that work for you, even certain things that you can do,
Mightn’t be things that I can do, or things that will work for me too.

No, you’re so used to being you, that you just can’t imagine being me,
Yet, it’s only when you try, friend, that there’s a chance you then might see.
But if no matter how you try, an understanding still alludes you,
Dwell on this: It could be just as hard for me to understand you too.

By Lance Landall