Hey there. I've been writing for a while, but I just recently began trying my hand at poetry. Up until now it was only prose for me. But, I needed a new way to try and express my ideas better, so I decided to give this a go. Any and all comments are welcome.
Sometimes it comes
as a river's soft rushing
while the sun's heat and light
warm the bare skin
my arms and my chest,
or maybe I'll feel it
in the soft touch
of a girl's lips
when her perfume fills
my mind and her hair
strings between us like
a web clinging to the soul.
Then it's a boy,
young and too early on
to even recognize his
own existence and future,
floating face-down in the pool
while his mother screams and splashes,
in all her clothes,
to save her only son.
The important question is:
How long has he been under?
You have to wonder.
I am the image of God and
they say, a sinner,
bent by nature because
the King and Queen of my
race fucked it up
for everyone, so long ago.
And when I told her I loved her
I meant it,
because I believed in that God
and that my love saved me.
She sang with one hand raised
and the other down my pants,
or down some other boy's pants.
I was what I was, a hypocrite.
She was what she was, a whore.
We were the images of perfection,
we took advantage of that position.
Smoke fills my car.
I am sitting, staring
out at the world around me.
A man mows his lawn
and another washes his car.
The day is warm.
People laugh in the park or
drink in their garages or
work themselves tirelessly or
wash their clothes in the river or
hunt dinner with spears or
starve to death or
die of illness and disease.
My eyes are red and
I can't help but smile
at all those people who
know the answer when
the answer is so obviously
beyond any possible understanding.
And still,
listen to the thunder.
You have to wonder.
Thanks for reading!!



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