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t h e   c o n t r a r i a n

what drives a man
to think?

what on earth?

bandying around words,
pushing others
and himself
to the, to the,

bothering, not once
to be reflective.
thinking less,
not being right
might be
more effective.

what on earth
drives a bitter,
bitter man to think?

meting out proud advice
like bad prescription medicine
(rarely, if ever, thinking twice.)

what if the proscriber
should swallow his own remedy:
making him none the wiser nor
the better for his troublings
with all his bumblings
leaving him out to sea.

what, on earth,
drives a contrary man to think and think?
when he, himself, cannot fully account
for his own convictions...
and he continues to daily dose us
with his afflictions?

if, now,
what is good for all the geese
why is it not grand for the solitary
why ought we to be the ones to
so to him we better pander?

I see frailty in this old man
the same
as in every creature, man, woman, earth, ocean, sky.
you know, that all too soon, in time,
all of creation
and you
pass by.

old man,
you, at last, have my empathy,
this is your reason why,
the one which drives you to think
and cry.

Copyright January 13, 2014
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo Tilt-a-World

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