Bravery, Love and Compassion

Bravery An image of man walking with his rib cage wide open,
he donates blood,
he talks to women about how to start things,
but  he’s brave and stupid.

He smokes cigarettes and dreams of angels fighting there own battle.
Brave like a talisman he melts when touched, silverrods and gold-globular.
He mixes his drinks and walks home because he is the bravest.
Between the mans ribs lies a medal.
No-one notices his medallion because nobody should know the real heroes,
until of course they do something heroic.

Love is like the flower,
it needs feminine water,
and the succulent stems of love should be nurtured.
I love my I-pod.
I love my pillow.
Love should be shared but with love comes pain.
Love is an indelible glitch that arrives in the morning like tooth ache.
Love over stay’s the welcome,
but like a battery there’s plenty to go around.
Love is the doctor’s remedy an antidote to cure all ailments,
and like an antiseptic it leaves a hoarse flavours on the lips.

Compassion is shared between the soldier and the enemy,
between the petals lie the assimilation.
To be compassionate about poetry,
to compassionately feel someone else’s pain,
compassion is the lesson’s of death.
The downtrodden force of mud, to the Wellington.
Compassion is like a release of compression
washed away in episodes of soap.
Compassion is new to some and old to other’s,
that contradict each others core beliefs.

Bravery,
love
and compassion make humans think,
make men and women think
but most importantly
contain the elements of success in love,
life and happiness that will keep mankind afloat.