the ‘nice’ gene

or ‘the chin pose’ — a (kinda/er) poem

Cos I used to be a do-gooder.

I used to be so nice.

I used to be a rule-player,

I used to be so nice.

And you know what happened?

I got trampled on.

Misused, misunderstood,

abused and taken advantage of.

Am I still nice now?

Of course I am.

In fact, I'm nicer.

Really?

Kinda/er.

But now it's on MY terms.

I'm nice, when people out there

truly deserve my nice kindness.

When I know it won't be

trodden on, disrespected

and assumed.

Where from came this change?

I ask myself...

I was never a ballsy kid;

Far from it.

I was 'seen and not heard',

born into those Victorian

(shut you up) house-rules.

And they lived on in me

until I finally grew up.

Did my time, and

realised I'd actually

had enough.

So, I say to you

“find your fire people

and let it burn.”

Let it burn right through every

last cell of your body-being.

Burn and burn and burn and burn

until all that’s left

are the raw wounds

of pure life.

The pure surity,

of actually

be-ing

ALIVE.

Then, lift up your arms,

raise your head,

strike the 'chin pose'

and walk forward.

Walk forward

with the inner knowledge

of your own,

sweet truth

guiding.

The inner light

of your own,

dear being

shining.

“Only then will you shake off

and really be free,

of Miss, or Master

NICE,” says she.