13.1k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
Thousand ton bombs are raining, reigning over me, and yet dim of wit still stand in a field where wildflowers may yet appear. Each launch above from life seems targeted, finds a fool in thick of little bluestorm. With hope, as if purpose, ride out rockets’ torpedo hail. I look at you, cranking your deployed sirens, in your bunkers, or caves, in armored vehicles. You don’t dispatch or deploy for this man, who is boy, sans uniform in a lone fight. I idle in a meadow beneath distant stars, the largest nears, and yet fearless. Why? Why have I survived so long walking amid land mines with snipers aiming from bush? I walk directly through it all, unwittingly grow taller, stronger, but just a boy you know. You know? Daisies at foot, small wildlife nears. Trees suddenly take root, sky and shadow. The blackest nights arrive, when a moon soars, fully glows. I’m bathed, by pale iridescence and hum. Cooled in a long night, bedded, life furthers this soloist than galaxies above. Tomorrow’s warheads prime in silos. I sing, longing another day wading my tall grass. 6.22.22 I don’t know if it means anything, but meant something when I started. Essentially, emotion is drama that feels like it could kill us, but the experience makes us stronger…probably not wiser, in my case. It just hit me: in other words — happy idiot |