I had a dream last night
I dreamed that my path
Was paved with gold
Overhanging branches
And lush bushes
Had been all trimmed back
My shins no longer scraped
Against the stinging nettle
My ankles no longer rubbed
Over zealous bushes
The twigs and decaying leaves
Had all be scraped away
Leaving me a path devoid
Of all natures beautiful wiles
Maybe it was a nightmare
Shocking me to become aware
Of our battle against
Sweet Mother Earth
Guess my gold and what all that I am worth
With these eyes that tell old stories
Through wordless reminders of the past
Desire nothing, save for future
And present fades away to blackened stars
I couldn’t have forgot the tired distance
Though my heart loudly telling me it’s flat
And from there my angels come crawling out
Into the gold seats I lay out in front
Of the words I spread with blood so thick
While today’s past, present, and future
Shifts hues and recollects artifacts
Without diamonds
There are no eyes
Without silver
There are no whispers
Without ruby
There are no games
Without emerald
The lake is empty
Without gold
There are no sunsets
Without you
There is no tomorrow
Death brings me to you
In unbridled fashion
Ceremoniously garbed
Buttons decked with gold
Sword sharpened
Toes pointy
Hat properly feathered
Death, in it’s fantasy
Bleeding my neck
Into pale luminescence
Creeking along
In shotgun
Erect like a ghost
Proud back
Black stripes cross my chest
And four horses pull
As death bring me to you
We fight for our money
We fight for our bread
We fight for the clothes on our back
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our gold
We fight for our oil
We fight for the car that we drive
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our computers
We fight for our iphones
We fight for the laptop we squander
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our drugs
We fight for our pension
We fight for the crimes we commit
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
[This poem is dedicated to the brothers and sisters who are effected every day by the terror of what is known as Kony. Please give the Invisible Children a voice.]
