|
11 Simple Thoughts
I had dreamed in French How lovely it was the eloquent fluid language spilling out of my lips like the Seine so pure and clean only in centuries past also in centuries past had time been different
How horrible the uttered word of ‘France’ was in the start 2001 In this war they didn’t help with Freedom fries we called them and 6 years to the day ago we started something
freedom Freedom to eat our freedom fries in peace forgetting about the feeble children in drought dried countries fight for life not freedom out of sight, out of mind
we fought that fight not necessarily a good one we overstayed our welcome realized it and kept on sleeping on their couch eating their food Drinking their drink dried milk out of crust-caked skull caps
We sit there Embedded in their brains like a haunting virus a tumor growing with distrust and stress They do us the same. What is this double standard we pretend not to see
We fear our buildings blown the sky is falling we have right to we then, should fear and think on the deaths everyday of terrorism abroad genocide starvation injustice murder violence neglect where do we end our cares where do all end the lies
Images posted across screens pasted and stapled into the minds of children too young to understand but soaking it in taking up the crime somehow knowing it’s bad seeing their parents opinion and doing just the same a dead talk tailboard meeting at the tail of a shining plane as it fiery floated out of the sky in burning heavens light
escape words shroud the mud forsaken place we are stuck there with our webbed feet and beaks in the drying pack too scared to run and be the scarred loser
These artists have the right idea screaming out at the ground the heavens are only producing falling things describing the birth of the masses dying
This was to be a eulogy eloquent, exotic, fine But the finite thoughts of The lucky ones Died when the pen hit the page It splattered bloody ink into the eyes of the massive captives Our brothers and sisters we no longer accept because someone in a big house told us not too
What’s the next path this stripped mine will take Studded with stars of fallen angels Our children weep in pre-dug graves this has to, hasn’t have to be We are the future of our own disease There is no them and us -DB, 9/11/07 |