Real Poem by Smoky Hoss

A man does the best he can
along the way. Never perfect,
but later he tries
to make up for
the mistakes he's made.
He keeps the faith. In the light,
in the dark, always.
He keeps his own counsel,
if he's real.
He has determination
to see things through, all the way.
He has no need to speak
meaningless drivel
or throw words around
just to see where they will splatter.
He decides how to live,
and how to die;
how to go from one to the other,
and how to do both well.
The wide-open landscape of his life
extends infinitely beyond boundaries.
He will not be corraled, cajoled,
or controlled.
He won't allow others
to belittle him,
and he never belittles others, until they
give cause for such.
To many
he is old-fashioned,
an anachronism, a dinosaur,
a relic of an age
most could not care less about -
No matter to him,
for he is honest, true and real,
never petty, never mean.
- He is the rare-breed,
few is his number, very few,
but all along the way
throughout, ever is he who is real,
a real-man.