When the thirst for freedom
Quenches the hunger of fear,
The cups of the oppressed
Shall fill to overflowing
With courage and zest
To wrestle,
By every means necessary,
rights and liberties
Denied far too long,
From the lascivious grasp
Of tyrants and kings;
So bloated by the feast,
They ate their lies
For dessert...
And forgot the truth.
~ P
(#OfTyrantsandKings)
4/19/2014

I only want to talk with you,
To walk and spend an hour with you.
I only ask to see your smile,
Love you for a little while.

     But you say:

     It's not your turn
     To look for me,
     Or listen to me breathe.
     You will not touch;
     I will not hear
     The lie beneath the plea.

It's not for you I ask these things,
It's just my lonely disposition.
My situation's getting tough,
My demands are not so much.

     But you say:

     It's not your turn to stay awhile,
     I am not some listless child.
     Turn away you can't stay long,
     Your love is prematurely born.
     Go away.

And now these days lag
Like wounds,
That will not heal or seal my pain.
My need is more than I can endure.

     Yet you say:
  
     Offer some other church your money.
     Call some other Mary honey.
     Nail some other rightless wrong.
     Offer some other girl your song.
     Hoard it for the white-necked lay.
     You know you cannot stay.
     It's not your turn today.
     It's not your turn.
     Turn away.

I saw
the underbelly
of a dragon
in my sleep last night
revealing the mysteries
of the entire universe
& somewhere else,
in my imaginations,
I set a wild horse free.