1. Titled (But Not Named)
Saw a vision in the clouds
The day the tides turned red
And waves vomited a molten blue
It was Buddha as an embryo
Waving his hands from the sky
Willing the world to awake
Ducks and ferral cats roamed peacefully
In ponds and forages
That humans had denied one another
The Garden had been sequestered
The wolves raged with cobalt eyes
The billionaires took all the pennies
Out of the wishing well and churned
Them out of fire into worthless stone
She and I gazed at each other
From a mirrors length of one another
Her glass eyes reflected my advancements
While my empty heart resisted pressing temptation
The Monarchs do not fly anymore
Birds nest without mating
A treasure once unforeseen
Nods it's head and winks it's eye
With the fog encrusted morning
Imported branches
Rooting into irrigated soil
There is no water here
The pigeons dare the moths
To molt and fly higher than bridges
But the giant moth
In all of it's bizarre glory
Swims into light that cannot feed it
And that was what swam out of her eye
When she looked at me and the
Glass began to melt
We awoke with each other
With no use for anyone to take care of us
We borrowed the sun's warmth
And repaid the new generation
With just enough shadow to sleep
A little longer in pleasant dream
2. Behind The First Wall Is Another Easier To Climb
And the rain cried out
In a single, signifying chime
"You can see across the world.
You are outside of the wall."
Within the boundaries
Of a stifled nation
The war cry chimed in unison
"We must follow the warriors to be free.
Violent protest the only thing they notice."
Their leader was chained
Behind flash bulbs
And misconceptions
"The blood you pour onto the streets
Does not bear well for our fruition."
With everything recorded
But set into a changeable pattern
The masks were removed from those that hid
And a secret place inside the mind
Opened- revealing our emptiness to an unkown universe
The world of politics is ripe
And pregnant with the need for newness
Fradulent elections contested
Arms of oppressors cut red tape
The quite idea, one not yet
Wholly formed, is what the
Populace seeks it's leader to speak out
A glass enclosure traps
An army of able bodied work men and women
They cannot swing their hammers
They cannot operate their drills
Their signals and signage
Point in confusing directions
Their silver is a worthless coin
Thrown into a bucket unable to be filled
The water layers the cement
The dry brush encrusts the green acreage
It is difficult for us
To lend a hand to others
While our hands dig
Unmercifully for things they cannot grasp a hold of
A pleasant moment is ruined
By a single sound heard across
The entire width of consciousness
It is discontent
It is discontent
Too many followers
Searching out unmarked trails.
