I look up crookedly, just a bum on the street,
but I can still see the things you don’t think
I can see – the steps you take, the role you play
the stride with which you walk
makes its way deep into the recesses of my heart,
out through every tear, every drop,
the liquid filled with lore and longing,
and as long as I have eyes, which can offer
love at first sight, the greatest gift
a human soul can give, even when crouched
down on the ground, staring without a sound,
I give you the only thing I have to give – LOVE.
Fairies and fireflies, a neon garden of delight,
a spinning vortex circling till the end of time.
How my youth was wasted by all the stupid rules
as admins laughed while I stood nodding like a fool.
In the battlefield of right and wrong,
matters not whose weak, whose strong.
Truth has its own strength,
tougher than ignominy, harder than steel.
To find the auras of angels move your
misdirected field of vision from the sky
towards the opposite direction
to see cheerful children in personas of perfection,
not contemplating but knowing goodness,
with eyes full of wonder and love,
squeaking with joy, smiling with ready teeth for all,
without exception, pretense, or prejudice.
They lack mythical angel wings,
the true saviors of the world,
radiating lovely light
through exaggerated gestures.
But agony takes root and grows
in this silently screaming earth
as adversaries arise hurting children
with guns, deception, bombs.
Children’s deaths mean Armageddon,
humanity pushed to primal screams
which echo, echo over the entirety of the globe.
These sounds will deafen all inhabitants
of this impotent place, incapable of protecting
the most precious bearers of the future.
This is when the resonating light
of salvation truly dims.
As the water dries from disillusioned eyes,
something else emerges,
the other self I’d submerged.
She takes her chance to seep all the way in,
flourishing, allowing me release.
What good did being good get me but grief,
that woman has long enough grieved.
Where being good drowned me,
she helps me breath,
standing to give me peace,
protecting me from hereon in,
a sheltering self,
tough enough to face the world’s ignominy.
Maybe, one day, I’ll allow you reprieve,
but not now dear, I’ll hold you close,
watching you as you rest after trying your best.
How I love to see you sleep
while I grow strong, the bad seed.
You can trust the misfits more
than people who are cool,
the ones who always fit in,
able to change skins
like chameleons on catwalks.