
M Norris Jul 2017
Labour all day to make another man's dime.

I find myself on the wrong side o' this paradigm.

Turn on the television, distract me from my career.

There's a newsman speaking, I'm sorry I didn't hear.

There's a politician speaking, I'm sorry, it's not very clear.

There's an army of robots marching, excuse me while I blankly stare.

let me lose my mind to the screen.

jingle your keys before me.

I am bereft  of independent thought,

what our ancestors predicted this was not.

For those on top, this is what they want,

an army of robots bereft of thought.
Because the drudgery of life can be a festival of mediocraty
M Norris Jun 2017
I didn’t know
When you would show
Your smiling face to me.

Time went on
Now you're gone,
I should’ve shone my smile on thee.

You’ll never know
How far we’d go
And now we’ll never see.

Why did I wait
Loneliness is poor bait
So much relies on timing.
So much of love is timing. Don't wait, or you'll miss your chance.
M Norris Jun 2017
They say "walk a mile in their shoes"
so you can understand their blues.
But I have traveled all around,
hundreds of shoes upon the ground.

The fisherman in the shack by the sea
who, to a hurricane, lost his family.

The old soldier lying drunk in the gutter,
who saw three wars that still make him shudder.

I've worn hundreds of shoes, two for each mile.
and for every frown, I found a smile.

The young, bright-eyed child in the park,
whose puppy just caught a frisbee with a bark.

The young couple on the couch
tangled together,
knowing through anything they will be forever.

They say "walk a mile in their shoes,"
so you can understand their blues.
But if you "love a mile in their heart"
and you truly learn who they are.
People are like icebergs, there may be more to them than you guess.
  Jun 2017 M Norris
Don't tell a rose how to grow,
And The birds how to chirp.
Don't tell your daughter to be soft,
Don't tell your son how to hurt.

Don't tell the sky what color to bleed,
And a person, the right way to grieve.
Don't try to tame your daughter's tongue,
Don't tell your son the manly ways to love.

Don't tell the wind which way to blow
Or the clouds how hard to rain.  
Don't teach your daughter how to soak,
Don't show your son how to easily reject.

Don't tell the sun to adjust its light
Or the truth how to show itself.
Don't tell your daughter it's feminine to shy,
Don't teach your son how to reign with fists held high.

Don't tell a heart how to beat
Or the mind how not to soar.
Don't clip off your daughter's  wings,
To make them a foundation for your son to grow.

Don't tell a rose how to grow,
Lest it decides to turn its petal into thorns.
Don't tell the birds how to chirp
And have their voices turn into rebellious growls.
Finally, one of my many poems was chosen as a daily.
Just been a 5 years.

I still can't believe it.

Also, thank you for all your reviews and love. I still don't think I'm a poet, I just usually ramble. But I'm so glad you guys gave this poem such love.
Means a lot.

Again, thank you very very much.
M Norris Jun 2017
Black out Sunglasses
The eyes are windows to the soul
What are you hiding.
M Norris Jun 2017
Here I sit, king of my wheeled domain, my neighbors’ kings of theirs. On a river of internal combustion, pavement and tendrils of black tar reaching. Creep forward at a pace matched by snails, dammed by glowing red lights. Free to think thoughts entirely my own. A peaceful space in a hectic world. A horn rips through the peace, someone too caught up in there busy schedule, there's nothing I can do, I’m as stuck as you. Breathe, relax, let the current flow. We will all get where we need go.
Slow down, theres alot of beauty in the world if you slow down and breathe.
M Norris Jun 2017
The eagle can't soar.

Left wing and right wing
Working together in harmony,
And the eagle can be seen
Soaring beautifully, gloriously.

When the left and the right
Have between them a wall,
And continuously fight
Then the eagle will fall.

Alas, the wings are both broken
And the eagle is grounded.
Big dreams that will never be spoken
Amidst the din that has sounded.
Political commentary, Yay!
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