Bam! And then there was keyboard!

I felt the need to write, so if you'll please excuse me:

I think it is the lot of Men
and woMen for that matter
to fall and try and fail again
and again and again and again
but we're all better for it in the end
which makes the gain more than the loss
so really, all that's failure's really success
and

...what I mean by that, is that people should not stay down. When you fall, it is poor sportsmanship to stay down and whine. You make us all look bad! So get up and try again. Rise to the occasion, and if you can't, just roll and knead again, 'til all the hot air's gone, and maybe that'll do the trick. But what I'm really saying is that

The tool comes quickly
to the able handed one.
The rest find their own.

Make decisions in the space of sixteen breaths, and if you made it too quickly, you can breathe a sigh of relief over ending something important. Roll with it, flow with, move on and take the hits.

And sometimes only song
can take away the pain
make right all the wrong
and wipe away the stains

because words aren't the end
the one way to truth.
sometimes, God forfend,
forsooth!
I run out of rhymes

He crouched in a dark alleyway, hoping his eyes would reflect in the dim lamplight, so that someone somewhere would find him and feed him, hold him and house him, but that wasn't to be, so he pounced off of the trashcan and fled into the night. The passersbys, puzzled, wondered why he didn't want their love. He, in turn, wondered why they wanted to trap him. They wondered where he lived. He wondered that too. He wondered where he could find a home to become the home for - the shield, the sword, the armor against the world. He wondered and wandered and wound down to the old boulevard, where broken glass lay cold and sharp against his feet, and slept there, to return the next day, to find the next city, to wonder and wander somewhere else. That is where he is now.

Grinning.