sad the truth the weight of air heavier than those words from people who did not care lost in the world parents that did not want us were conceived in pain anguish was the seed they labored for in vain could not tolerate servitude fraught with disdain let it glide off of our wings like rain leaving them for places new places to roam never finding a home from a cold northeaster you can ride the horses back if the hooves are not worn from cruel masters coarse wisdom an ardent question to determine right from wrong straight from bent short love from long liquid intuition a transparent answer unfettered pyramid built of florescent light frosted and forlorn towers above the crowd first day of the first year torn from reality and time weaves a mattress cover made of beaded morning light to put your regret to sleep this very night spilling seeds of violet hope in your lovers front yard makes you a dreamer and not a fool kiss those eyes asleep with seven wishes made from within that magnificent fractured heart exhale the after thought let your magnet ship sail & spin across the opalescent slip streams of all my former selves travails washed my guilt in the river of my afterbirth I return home a prodigal son to the burned out remnants ruins of several former incarnations rebuilt my life with books hollowed out olive tree branches from my grandmothers loom eating roasted wild boar cooked on iron ore with earthen flat cactus leaves elk jumps over thistle and lavender yellow traffic sign reveals that some one stole the innocence from the hills and the senorito forgot to take his pills no one changes on new years day and that’s what the songs say but a girl with gold hair azure eyes grabbed me and kissed me when I was down a well I could barely hear the Cheering when the Train in the distance Sounded like a bell as it fell through a veil of darkest night Call me I am sitting on a cloud in the sky lilac laced brews decorate the pews with children dancing in various hues around my emerald cathedral and sapphire stained glass alter Different is good in this neighborhood where a shepherds son and a migrant workers daughter might one day meet and bring me here to see it all unfold
Posted on: Sat, 16 Nov 2013 09:46:43 +0000
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