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Stupid fucking bird.
That’s all love is A fucking bird you can never quite tie down Perhaps you’ll come across a feather Floating down from the heavens A tickle to tease you Perhaps you’ll get your moonlit love scene under the stars A fucking fleeting moment Embers of that kind never last It’s the cold stones around the campfire that never leave Strong bold and dependable Why are we so drawn to what may burn us Instead of what can build us?
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Pink tree tops reflecting the setting sun
Or Plastic scraps caught on the fingers of trees? Stars on a wintery night, glistening like crystals Or Dreary cold, dead silence and frostbite? Sun rays peeking through sleepy woods, glinting off melting puddles Or Muddy booby traps waiting to get stuck on your shoes? The images rush past me as the car s p e e d s d o w n thehighway. I reflect. A church hill painted red A Christmas tree farm Abandoned antiques A quaint town we d r i v e through, on THE way HoMe. The windows provide entertainment, Like a projector on a movie screen in a theater Warm gold and shadow intermingling with one another on barren grass Or Dead grass? Frozen lakes, old wooden bird houses Or Abandoned homes? I add SoUnd to the film playing outside of the car windOw With my thoughts, asking where how when and what? Unkempt lists of incomplete fragments jotted down to return to when time allows Or Diamond thoughts left unsaid, unheard, and unloved. I swear my best ideas only decide to pop into existence When I have no way or time or hands to save them While roads highways Towns and cities R u s h past me Andblurtogether ...Along with my thoughts Thinking in and of itself is a type of art form good or bad Looking in from the outside always makes things look more exciting It’s not as pretty once you’re inside Telling only one side of the story, woven by eloquent lies It’s like having the sun on my face and m o v i n g at 75 mph Opens up a different dimension inside my mind Where all of the secrets of the world lie waiting for me to unlock A house alive with green and purple amongst drab gray shacks Or Abandoned buildings falling apart, being taken over by green. Fading round smoky circle in the blue sky Or Pointless observation. The point of a human life --of my life Always comes up in my internal conversation With the r o a d ThE TrEEs, and the sky hugging my car as I move Realizing human connection is all we have. Learning the nature of oblivion. Becoming one with the world in isolation. And then I sit and ruminate, homebound still What of the faces and places I do not pass by On my journey home? What do I see when I p r o j e c t my soul across the globe? Droplets leaking down grimy tear streaked faces, fed up with inequality. Voices screaming their anguish Or Peace. People trapped, glued to a slab a metal fit to you palm, mesmerized by blue light frequency Or Freedom. Are the lines we draw black and white? What bright colors do we paint Inequality, greed, arrogance, hate, and fear to overlook their dEforMitieS and keep the FlaWed pieces in our mosaic? Why do we study imaginary boundaries on maps in classrooms instead of the ones between Peo Ple ? I have no answer As I turn the key And turn off the ignition I wrestle with the question What is this world we live in? Pretty or ugly Or Ugly Or Pretty? My Mind is a glass box
Locked from the inside I am trapped Pressing my face against the cool surface My in-ability to speak tightens the small squareness of my prison My mind is a glass box On the inside looking out I reach out, but only feel icy walls and cold stares I am trapped Like a one-way mirror A stone-faced expression conceals my zigzagging thoughts My mind is a glass box Doomed to look on and never touch No one outside can hear me scream “I am trapped!” Driven by silence and insanity Brought on by my chains And years of my silent pleas Falling on deaf ears... I lay a fist on the wall, another, then another A web, it splinters, shatters, and cracks My mind is a glass box But I am no longer trapped. How much do I love you
On a scale of 1 to 10? I ponder. Your question hits me in the stomach How can I measure my feelings In a calibration so calculated And cold? It’s like asking an astrophysicist To put a boundary On outer space A scale would give you a number But words would tell you what I mean What does it even mean to say I love you? That I’ll send you presents on your birthday Whisper sweet words when nothing feels okay? Travel to the moon and back Promise you the stars? Buy you a boat, horse, fast cars Or would this transaction surpass monetary action? I’d love you even if we lived on nothing but potatoes. Then I wonder… Isn’t love a two way street? A scale would give you a number But words would tell you what I mean Will you squeeze me so tight To make up after a big fight? Send me chocolates on Valentine’s day And join me in bed at the end of the day? Know all of my little habits and quirks Staying with me despite them And making long distances work? If that is so Then I’d say that is the scale I love you this much, I say Holding out my arms, widespread It doesn’t seem much to you, but it is my whole being and body I’d give you the universe A scale would give you a number But words would tell you what I mean Now tell me, On a scale of 1 to 10 How much do you love me? |
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