He ate flowers.

this mentally challenged boy
from the countryside
I used to watch him
in the fields
when I visited my grandparents
as a kid
He was like an exotic thing
a wild beast chasing
static pray
They had no chance,
the flowers
he would assault them
with a killer's smile, frothing,
and would grab
and tear and rip them from
the stem and
would eat them

Nobody knew why
and the only explanation given
was that he was insane

then the men and women
who saw him would
scream at him
to stop and he would raise
his head and watch them
like a deer surprised by
headlights
Then he would spit the colorful
froth from his big mouth
and would run home
hopping and leaping like a horse
through the tall grass

He was mostly inoffensive,
this flower eating boy
but they all told me to stay away
from him and would
always chase him away when
he got too close

Time passed and I moved to the
city and went to school there
and stopped visiting the
countryside and its wonders
I got busy
and my busy life drove away the
magic and mystery of childhood

The flower eating boy is now but
a memory
neither good
nor bad
just strange, interesting

He doesn't eat flowers anymore
because he doesn't live in the
countryside anymore
No, from what I've heard
he's in some mental facility and it was
his last flowery meal that sent him there

I don't know,
maybe if they hanged signs with
"Don't wear flowers in your hair!"
around the village and the fields
that little girl would've been saved
and the village would still have its
magic beast.

Me too, baby, I get it.
We argued a lot last night
My kid said it wasn’t “fighting”
He prefers to call that a ‘hissy fit’

How did he grab hold of my mother’s words?

He never even met his grandma.

A sophisticated word
He claims that ******
We were attempting
‘‘T’was just an argument”

You must hold your tongue
In your hand now, walk backwards
I just can’t look at you today
You, the nuclear excused

You who believes he rises
Each day anew, beloved
Again in the face of the gods’
Own tribunal?

I don’t buy it.

I love how the bonds connect so fast
I call a number and I want to buy
a dresser for twenty bucks

but they are looking for a connection,
they want to discuss times
places

we should talk about night stands
more often with total strangers

people are so alone now
with all these ways to connect

wisdom is draining out of us so fast
perhaps it gathers in night stands

or vintage knick-knacks
wisdom lost like this
it must be gathering

into something

Like me for this but not for that
And that is who I am I can’t change that
This is who I became to make you see that I truley did change for you ..
But that! ...see that right there isn’t a act!

Honestly if you wouldn’t of had this and that then I wouldn’t even like you like that
BE YOURSELF AND STOP JUST STOP MAKING ME INTO THEM
I’ll be fine you don’t like me for that
But this I know about you
I loved you no matter what you had
And I hope one day you will see this and realize I’m not perfect but I’ll give you the world





...you just gotta understand

"To Try For The Sun" by Donovan Leitch

We stood in the windy city,
The gypsy boy and I.
We slept on the breeze in the midnight
With the rain droppin' tears in our eyes.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We huddled in a derelict building
And when he thought I was asleep
He laid his poor coat round my shoulder,
And shivered there beside me in a heap.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We sang and cracked the sky with laughter,
Our breath turned to mist in the cold.
Our years put together count to thirty,
But our eyes told the dawn we were old.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
Mirror, mirror, hanging in the sky,
Won't you look down what's happening here below?
I stand here singing to the flowers,
So very few people really know.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We stood in the windy city
The gypsy boy and I.
We slept on the breeze in the midnight,
With the rain droppin' tears in our eyes.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.