When have I ever written anything
Bigger than myself
When have I stood for the rights of
Other people
People less fortunate than me
Have I ever told the story
Of someone else
With no gain for myself
Of someone else
Instead of me
Instead of the skipping record
Of my inner anthem
Plastered over parchment
And screaming for attention
Did you see my fists curl
Did you see me carry a gun
And stand on a wall
Did you see me rise to the challenge
Of preventing the oppression
Of good, kind-hearted people anywhere
No, you never have
And the swings will stop swinging
And the merry-go-rounds will stop spinning
And little feet will not dig in the sand to take root
And the sun will not nourish
The photosynthesis of our imaginations
Because the voices
that shouted out
“Nevermore”
From years ago
Have faded into
the greedy whispers of
“Give me more.”
Maybe you were looking for a cryptic
Way to ask
But writing it down makes it solid
So stop staring and say it
You can’t strip this down any further
Honesty is in two-tone grayscale
And this cursor keeps blinking
In and out of existence
Foot taps
Sweaty palms
And rolling eyes
All postpone the question
While my dreams are frozen
At zero degrees Kelvin
I’ll simply ask
Here we go
Shall we masturbate like monkeys
Or invent the wheel today?
I’m just amazed by
All the crazy things
That will happen to me
Before I die
Some things will hurt
And others will make me smile
All before I shut my
take a nap for a while
Hi
Hi
How are you
I’m fine
Me too
That’s good
Great
Where have you been
Waiting for you
For me
Yeah
Why
I didn’t want to start without you
Start what
The rest of our lives
How do you know
Know what
That I’m the one
blond haired
blue-eyed soldier
you kissed me on stage once
while your boyfriend looked on
now your delicate hands
wrapped awkwardly around an M-16
fall away
pulling sheep out of a bag
you'll make them all smile
always
an inverted shepherd
sending the herd home
to live in the dust
when it’s you whose lost your way
let them pray to the east
your sun sets in the west
it is toys made sticky by dog piss
and slipped between copies of
Popular Science and Omni
a broken fish bowl
and runaway turtles
wet pavement warmed by afternoon suns
and fathers with cancer
and father’s with cancer
and fathers of cancer
A roll of quarters will buy you
all the truth you need in this town
‘cause it’s not always sincere
when their plastic stretches
into a smile
tight lipped and restrained
holding back age and sorrow
is just part of the job
but honestly did you expect them
to just break down and cry
And, being the ornament that I am
can be a good thing sometimes
perverting their reflections
back to them
can only make them laugh
