Poetry – Page 21 – A (wise) man of two faces

Bells and Whistles

There’s no reason
for the season;
laugh and play
the day away,
difficulties easin’.

The reaper rides forth
to do that which must be done
on a bone-white horse.

Wisdom has a price,
and The Hanged Man understands
the cost of the truth.

My body’s my own,
it belongs to no other.
I’ll decide how I’m known:
sister or brother.

When you get to know me better,
you’ll find it’s not that hard.
I’m more than a letter
on a laminated card.

I’m more than my hair,
my figure, or clothes.
And it may not sound fair,
but I chose what I chose.

So when we meet, please be kind;
respect what’s in my heart and my mind.

There is more to Strength
than armies, weapons, or war –
there is character.

Black and blue
are tried and true,
but give the bed
a splash of red
and see what it will do.

The Wheel binds us all
to the twists and turns of fate;
it alone is free.

Closeted away,
The Hermit seeks the world’s truth,
or perhaps found it.

The place where we belong,
lauded in story and song…
But if a place to be free
is offered only for a fee
then it is wrong.

The all-seeing eye
discerns the facts, motives, and
dispenses Justice.