I’ve written this poem before, but I thought I’d give it another go.
It’s not because the first one wasn’t any good, but when you hit upon something I figure why not keep hitting it until its dead.
Plus I don’t feel like writing another love poem right now and having someone comment that I need to get a girlfriend.
Why are people afraid of honesty?
Why are people made so uncomfortable from anything that touches them or awakens something inside that maybe they have not experienced in this lifetime?
Ghosts are people to and I think it’s high time we gave them the right to vote seeing how the Supreme Court has ruled that corporations are people and Republicans are doing their darndest to make it as difficult as possible for black people to exercise their right to vote.
I know some people will not be comfortable with that last line and I really could care less because this is my poem and I’ll make anybody uncomfortable that I choose to.
I once fell in love with a ghost. She was one heck of a looker but when it came to commitment she was terrible at sticking around and believed that she had the right to haunt anybody she pleased at any time.
We must come together before it’s too late and strike down all this hatred and ignorance and I am not just talking about taking down a flag, but really digging down into the trenches and asking ourselves the really tough questions like why we despise people that don’t look like us or pray like us or love like us.
I’ve written this poem at least a dozen times before and I’ll probably write it a thousand more and I’ll still not get it right because right and might, light or dark are so beside the point.
I am through with all of these lightweight people who haven’t got a clue what a blessing it is to be here among the thistles and the thorns.
It’s not like I am giving up hope or that I ever believed that hope equates fear, but at some point we all must give up the ghost and few of us will be able to control when we turn out the lights and never wake up again.