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 Oct 2012 Aaron McDaniel
Duck
I think God is obligated to give you trouble
If you can't stand this **** but refuse to work a shovel
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we talked about forever
like it was something feasible
and at times I believed it was
a forever
with a person
with a soul
but you have no soul
that became evident after you
     hit me
       pushed me
          misused me
             kissed her
                 ****** her
                    picked her
I'm well aware
that I am no Juliet
but you were never a Romeo
despite your fake and valiant efforts
where are you now?
alone
like me
the difference is
you will always be alone
but I fell in love again
I guess you found your forever
sure hope it was worth it
*****.
I
Am
An american
I take too much.  
I take everything for granted.
I have more than enough food to feed a family of ten,
Why not waste a meal or two,
who am I really hurting?
I don’t see the scars I’ve dug down deep in the skin of others.
I don’t know the pain I’ve caused.  
The wounds are oozing over but,
I don’t have to worry because
Momma says “shh, baby, it’s okay”
If only she knew that I’ve sent a 6 year old boy in a grown mens battlefield,
land mines and bullets surround him,
I’m corned by MTV re-runs and empty Pepsi cans.
I’ve never had to deal with the pain of watching my mother be beaten in front of my eyes
Just to instill my loyalty
I’ve never watch everything I love burn down to the ground,
I’m too busy chatting up the latest blockbuster movie.  
The money won’t pay for the 9 kids walking the streets,
It’s not much of a game when theres actual lives on the line.
They’ve been bashed and bruised,
Claiming their okay,
Even they know Mona Lisa has a fake smile.
I wish I could show the demons I’ve sent out in the world
They’ve been torturing the souls of the weak and hopeless
I’m hopeful I’ll catch the next Jersey shore episode.
How can you expect me to understand my devastation
when I’m told it isn’t even my fault.  
I’ll never be able to tell you all of the wrongs that I’ve done, because I don’t even know what they are.
They’ve been melted and creamed in a blender
Take a sip from the cup of destruction
Genghis Kong
would be proud.
I guess I’ve taken too many steps in the wrong direction,
make an exception
because the expectation, is that
I can’t be the one to blame.  
My pride is set before the fall of ours,
I’ll never get to see where they land.
Maybe they can find their way to a place where they can hurt people freely.
They’ll take too much.
Take everything for granted.
They’ll waste a meal or two
But,
Who aren’t they really hurting?
I was once told to edit the world. I grabbed my colored pencils, my childish ideals thinking I could simply, go over the imperfections left by my predecessors. Soon I would come to realize, life is no etchy-sketch.  I could shake the world, twist, mold into anything I wanted.  It’s still ****** up.  I’m still trying to color the problems.  I shade the unwanted, masking it over so I can pretend it’s gone.  My day dreams continue further as I sketched over past memories,   just want to edit the world.  But, colored pencils become daggers when in the right hands.  I’ve leaped into this idea with no plan, Standard american wisdom.  Act first, question later.    my first action should have been to ask, is the world a canvas?  Maybe it’s a kindergarden sandbox, 5 year old fists and 6 year olds toes smash and pound through.  Maybe it’s a thunderstorm because, I was told life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. All I’ve seen is dark clouds and lighting.  Maybe the world is me.  Poetic angst without fail, too much energy to use, to many words spoken at a rapid pace. Maybe the world is you, you, or you.  It’s not just its own story, it’s a combination of auto-biographies still being written.  Maybe... Just maybe, we are all editors.  The world is constantly being edited, no single person should aim to do it themselves.  Our world is force, a group, a team, a family taking the pens from our mothers and fathers, writing our chapters into the guide on how to edit.  Sooner rather than later, we’ll pass our pens down to those who will write the chapters we never get to see.  Hopefully, 5 year old fists and 6 year old toes become 20 year old champions and 30 year old heroes. We can share our stories, filled with the people we’ll never forget, and the nights, we can’t seem to remember. In the end, editing the world will never finished, it can be forgotten.  We hope shedding sun rays on a rainy day, might convince our successors to never forget.  Sadly, We can only hope they wish to edit.
Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.
 Oct 2012 Aaron McDaniel
Samuel
need sleep, will
love?
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