What was I once?
A boy?
Did I stand up for our rights?
And speak out with our voice?
Did I hold my own
In discussions of the future?
Did I make decisions
Understanding the gravity
Of seven generations?
And how many times
Did I remain calm
As those around me couldn’t?
Did I react to danger
As a leading protector?
Did I give safety
To those around me who couldn’t?
Did I stand up to help?
Did I give you a chance?
Have I become
A man?
Tag: boy
Knee Jerkin’ Jamboree (day 1942)
This sunshine in my sky so high,
Oh Lordy, sit down and sing me a song today
I’ve got little dancers raising glasses in my heart
And the whole town’s coming down
For a good ol’ knee jerkin’ jamboree!
Have you thought about bees on a Sunday?
Bending fullness of a flower top
Slowly wrinkling it’s cheeks saying: ‘Hi!’
Waving lazily in the afternoon sky
Cause Oh Boy! I’ve sure got some cheer!
You know, I sure know this old barn door,
And today there’s nothing more I could want;
Squeaky hinges and drying wood,
And the smell of it all goin’ back to earth.
What’s happening to my soul? It’s a damn good day.
Night Air (day 1790)
I’ve got anger seeping into my blue blood veins
Letting animosity fuel this deep inside fire
This isn’t dragging me down, boy, hell no.
For the sky’s calling me higher then high.
This is a lesson of life with a cruel world twist,
But no man’s heart has ever been softer
Nor shall erosion get at it’s strength.
No, this is a quest in growth,
With a battle-cry ringing out in cooling night air.
Lights In the Park (day 1568)
Where I come from, wounded soldiers are hid behind shadows and only come out at night when small dogs are being walked by wobbling, aging men wearing the same thing they’ve worn for 20 years. The leash, however, fits just as it should. I wonder, rather curiously, what sports or video game they’re missing as they pull the mutt home.
When I sit and stare at the business, it rolls by in a drawl so thick, screaming girls in stretch limos seem normal down city streets where younger hip dudes with Chuck Taylors on discard the evening’s steaming pile of dog shit into an overflowing disposal bin painted green.
Lights on a distant sports building shift through the lower half of the color spectrum, causing the young girls white dog to turn a more rusty yellow. I try not to look at her puppy while she ruffles the poop bag. Young white boys talking in a foreign tongue park their father’s white suburban in a permit required zone and pass their joint around as if it’s their first nudie magazine at summer camp.
I sit silently, sipping on my micky of Sailor Jerry’s and pretend there’s nobody I’m thinking of and somebody to walk home to. I left the light on beside the bed to give off some sort of impression anyways.
Lemonade (day 1307)
Being able to take over the heart of an ancient soul was creating pressure within the young boys heart.
He saw wisdom, he saw truth, but he also saw the windows of time shift from opportunity to rest, from an ounce of hope to pains that lifted one awake shortly after midnight.
A silent lake was a window.
Like glass, a heart is precious; always suspended at the edges of tomorrow picturing faint smiles and implied intentions.
Here the young boy clutched tightly to his grandmothers pointer finger, understanding conscious kindness in her forever eyes that always found his quietly.
They were together often for this reason, but also her lemonade tasted like sweet nectar.
He would remember this as time would slowly reduce rations of nectar but still filled full with every bit of love.
Only mid-summer’s sun and a lazy bumblebee were present as Grandma smiled and laid her head against the sun chair, closing her eyes.
The young boy drew a shape of a heart on the dusty table top before he walked down the steps and out into the yard where he found his foot soldier, Rusty, the valiant family golden retriever that kept watch over the young boy while Grandma rested her smiling heart – shaded, but in the sun.
Floating Tragedy (day 1146)
My heart floats into a tragedy
Like cats painted on my baby boys nursery wall.
Destined and predetermined
And midnight moon lonely.
Don’t scare me.
Don’t listen to those lonely secrets.
Don’t float the note, sealed in the
Hand-crafted sailing boat down the community stream.
Don’t cry the grass alive
From your lonely tower.
I’m a birthday balloon
From cheap dollar store blues.
My heart floats on into tragedy.
A single bill with no underlining.
I’m a water and chips
At the liquor store diner.
I’m on the lonely side of uncomfortable fabric.
And my heart floats into unrequited tragedy.
And your loose limits
Are crying my name.