Reason of Being // a poem April 2010
Soul kissing French lovers like we lived in Paris.
That we could be some other nation.
Any where else, but this place
We could come from.
Wars, heavy as rainfall, pour in
Over history and repeats itself.
Four inches every year –
Its flooding the humanity out,
Like being washed out with mud
Holding your arms up in meek surrendering,
Let us be free, like that kiss I gave you.
It doesn’t have to be near the tower,
Just as far away from dying, life’s all but suffering,
Drenched in their soaked clothes.
They are shivering, but we stay close.
Holding each other for warmth. When you see me
You reach into my bottom
Pull me out into the bed, love me undead,
My face into your grace like a sunflower
So help us God, the truth was this all along.
Freedom parchment is chapped from signing
The peace you give me is foreign, that I barely knew it
It’s all I know now, educated under the Corithain morale
Of your code of light;
There is only the sun shinning hard
In the distance there are reasons dying.
Flying ahead are sane plane shapes, dropping
Bombs, beings like dead flies
Into my soul such life that I strain to survive
Remain myself for as many days
As the nights will let me drag through;
Stay the same sun bathed
Naked as you first saw me.
Change nothing, that you devote forever to,
Kind and unconditional, steaming
Lying cloudy-eyed
.
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