Just an early morning poem to practice free flow |
The robo gels were just a spell, no time could tell or prove them wronger. I felt they had made me number, stronger. Their grasp held even longer than childhood could foster a lost soul confused and full of hunger and lost honor. I was a goner, trapped away in a world where night never turned to day. Nobody had mouths, no one could say "hey how are you doing, are you okay?" I just worked and worked, hoping one day it would pay- off and on my mind would sway and decay. Eroding emotions gave way to exploding notions of oceans full of life and maybe one day a wife to call my own and a child who had a home to come cry to when they felt they were all alone instead drowning in the pool or screaming into the phone at somebody on the other line without a reference, no frame of mind to care, to fake or pantomime holding feelings. Its a crime, and about damn time some people looked into the mirror and saw they weren't an I but an us, a we, not me, nor mine. We are all the same. No claim to fame or how we became , or how we decide to play the game should be the blame for the separation we have from one another. You are my friend, my sister, my brother from another mother. Every time we choose to care we birth another lover, a mindful maker, a creator unlike any other. Whos world and words can bring us together and make a sad place seem a just a little bit better. Or we forget and ignore that, and this place grows a little bit wetter, colder, deader. So just forget your place to judge, pick, pry, or nudge your beliefs down other peoples throats and instead, provide them water, to feed their flowers, and house their boats. Be a better student, sit down, pull up a chair and take some better notes. Dont be the smartest in the room, if you 'are', you'll see that soon and feel that doom of knowing that everything is relative and that knowledge you had became a sedative. Putting you to sleep for days and days on end. Taking away everybody who would listen, or understand. Nobody wants to comprehend the truth in returning again and again. And that's the place where I have been. |