There was a boy
And a pretty girl
The boy thought,
I'll give her a whirl
She passed, "You're hot--hot as the sun"
He felt a very clever one
She stopped when she heard it,
And then she turned
"Don't get too close to the sun,
You might get burned"
Not heeding her,
"How close can I get?"
I'm not going to let her walk off just yet
She glared at him, hiding mischievous smiles
"No less than 93 million miles "
At the end of his wits,
As she strolled out of range,
He yelled, "But how can I get closer?"
"Maybe with season change!"

And as she disappeared from sight,
The horizon fizzled out
And the new moon glittered
And all the stars came out

I was raised,
in the outdoors.
Next to you and her.
One man holding a hand gun.
While She was giving birth.
To a younger boy to be just like you,
we still wonder what that's worth.
I wonder if you ever knew you was a role model to me first.
Some days I'd wake up in the morning, to see you in papers and the news.
While I'm looking in the mirror realizing I've got everything to prove.
You'd tell me;
You'll have the torch after me,
just grind hard and do you.
Which is funny now because I would only see myself in the rear view.

She moved about as the sea
And I the shore she'd visit every so often.
Each grain moist with infatuation.
I wish she'd stay a bit longer.
Kissing above her eye.
A paradise unfolded between our every caress.
Filling the gaps of when I missed her most.
Splashing against the shore.
Finding endless bliss in the current of the wind.
Taking a piece of me whenever she'd leave
Until next time

Dangerous times nearing midnight. Every day opens with fresh blood or ink drying down our throats, "...and I Must Scream.", Harlan Ellison [1967]

Honeycombs of humanity sink into themselves and form a thick syrup they claim will cure our ailments, but still tastes like Third *****™ nationalism.  They burn our shelters and chant, "Home."

Resistance looks strange. People aren't choking on gag orders, they're going around the wall, but hundreds are behind bars for protest, or still getting killed on the streets, or getting hosed down in the cold for advocating clean water. They're putting bounties on antifascists.

We beat that ***** Richard Spencer, but we're yet to strike the one in the White House.

Rattlesnakes under our heels, we've grown into something fiercer.
Something deadlier.

Is going
With the chariot on which the piles of human memories
Toward eternity with various passengers
Quiet and deep thinking
Some travelers rained on them fire rocks
Curse of nations
Caress some travelers
The salutation of posterity with breeze
Wise has smile of satisfaction on this trip
In the hands of some was the olive leaf
Those who love their nation
Some of them closed their eyes
Consent and kindness
Scientists and inventors
And finally the oppressors of history
With chain of anger and cursed of nations
Running behind chariot
Cursed and cursed
The Curse of mothers who mourn for their children in wars
Curse of orphan children who were suffering
They were not in chariot
Following behind this and went toward eternity
with shame

convinced myself I've already met the person I'm going to end up with
everyday searching for someone to prove me wrong