I'd rather make sense than cents, though I don't know that I often succeed at either. Too often, my search for the words to express the sentiment that I feel deep within my spirit comes up empty. It's just one of the many things I am bad at. Still, I can't but ride on through the night, laptop desperado that I am. Besides, writing gives me the Pinnochio effect. (I feel like a real boy)
Organic Apples
songs ring out in my head
wrapt in memory
everything means more when you’re young
and your parents believe
time has passed me by
until even the man in the mirror
doesn’t know my name
but it’s still teaser putting me to sleep
and firecats run wild in my dreams
where i’d rather clean windows
than be a rich man
on comes the call
social justice
sounding in the distance
behind walls
i hear the screaming
left then right, left then right
a solider marching
all the time i’m left
until i make it right
no, my father’s ghosts don’t haunt me
and my mother’s sorrows don’t get me down
but i’ve both their hearts within me
and my own small thorny crown
- JB 08/04/11
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