Lost in the waves of your wonder and super hero mirth
The Three Wise Men called and wanted their gifts back, they said something about a nation’s genocide of their indigenous people and that no matter how many rights are performed they will never undue the wrongs covered in so much innocent blood
I’m a lost little kitten, who lost his mittens and will only feel safe after we’ve embarked on a journey to the center of the Sun
Take my hand, this may be a fool’s errand, but I promise you the geese we ride will lay golden eggs while the guiltless stand trial and those who can no longer stomach one injustice after the next will take their final labored breath
This poem is a downer and I wish I could call up Julie Andrews, but I hear even she had a dark side when Blake refused to listen and she finally had to draw a line in the quicksand
Lost in the wonderment of your wavy geometry I wish I had actually paid attention in summer school and didn’t just cheat on the tests. Stunned by your stoned me grace and mercury mouth evocations it’s time to stand back and watch as you cast your spell.
Post a Comment