It was cold and I had no home to go too
A lion stood over my body and roared
A warm ocean came upon my skin
My skin was a vessel like no other, riddled with bullets and pavement
The nurse scrubbed my wounds roughly with a green brilo pad
I heard the birds first and then a wave of water rushed over my body
The gulls had taken my eyes and they seemed to laugh
My hands dug deep into the wet sand and my mind told me I was alive
As everything and everyone I know is dying around me, I turn to stone
We put on our game face and act out for other bags of water
Some broad looked at me like I was real but I was fake
Most people are better actors than me
I am a warrior of many pasts, all manner of instruments feel good in my hands like hatchet, bow, and rifle
Instinct is the password into the proto apes howls and screams
Life is a book of merry-go-round dreams
The fate of each human being played out to it's mark
My mind was being wasted, though isn't everybodies
Some people are mad at me for not being a conformist, for not being dead inside, for not being a true believer in the system
The sun smiles down upon me and warms my skin
Honey bees land on the flowers around me
I delight in the buzz and they haven't stung me yet
The bur oak yawns and eyes sprout from it's knots
My arms turn into a fungus of ethereal light
I was on a mad train ride full of fever and the dull terror of boredom and utter loneliness
A lone man trudges through the snow in a million acres of white.
Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
No comments:
Post a Comment