It was her job to interview the man.
But she knew he wasn't going to make it easy.
She met him backstage as he was being powdered.
"Hey there..." and he ended with some ****** comments.
Three words in and already she felt flustered.
"Hello! Hello!" She hadn't gotten this far
to fall apart at the hands of some buffoon.
And he was heralded as a man of great importance,
of great worth, of great ... greatness.
But the world sees with its eyes closed sometimes
can't smell the ******* underneath its nose.
"We're on in five." The message prompted her to say,
"Well, see you on the stage" and she stood up to walk away.
But he shooed the makeup artist and held her up another second.
"I think you're ..." all these years she had performed,
she had excelled, she had grown. And still, the men
on thrones thought they could hold her down. "I'm sorry,
but no." That was the end of that. His face turned red.
She walked on stage. The show had just begun.

it's the moonlight that spills through my blinds
that reminds
me
of how small we really are
among a galaxy of stars
like the ones on the tv screen
which we dream to be
as we chase infinity
for an eternity
on a planet of habits,
some good
most bad
all there
to keep me from going mad
when i realize
gravity is just a scam
meant to hold me down
and keep me as i am.

The job market is a farce,
and for the poor, money is always sparse.
No longer a child, I have to stop kidding myself -
now a dad I have to pass on Santa and elves,
the tooth fairy, and the economy,
a lineage, and a history.
I've been a ******* in more ways than one,
America's sociological experiment of a son,
whose dream wasn't tied to a flag,
a political party, nor ****.
But I understand it takes strife to fulfill life,
an ingredient in the recipe that creates might.
El sueño Americano es el mismo Chicano,
sueño Colombiano, Asiático, y Africano.
Ain't no difference when it's all a Google search away
and the world works to pay a debt it never owed.
Be free, baby, but before you do -
you gotta figure out what that means to you.

He gripped the lever on his mechanism
and flipped through the pages of time.

Everything he saw happened in the span of seconds.
Time was relative when empires fell.

There were wars built of flame and desperation.
Civilizations rose from ashes. Sand covered statues
went undiscovered. And history seemed written only
partially known. The man he left it all behind,
for the sake of seeking knowledge of the gods. He
saw great crowds of people, starving in the streets.
He saw them fighting and loving, at the same time.
For there is no good where bad does not exist. The man
he left it all behind, in search of something better.
But time is neither good nor bad. It simply only is.

Perhaps he learned this lesson yet.
Perhaps he never did.
Perhaps he's still lost somewhere
and nowhere all at once.

There is a man in a cell, doubting his decision.
There is a man next to him, forgiving his own sin.
There is a nun in the convent, looking up for god.
There is a priest in his tower, looking down on man.

There is a morning somewhere now, rising in the sky.
There is an evening settling down, fading away.
There is growth and rebirth and death and decay.
There is stunted potential and dreams are fulfilled.

There is a woman in a car, trying to drive the narrow.
There is a woman walking slowly while the curb bends from her feet.
There is a salesman pitching innings, and it’s only just the first.
There is a customer, buying everything his wallet touches last.

There is the sun and all the stars, defiant in their heavens.
There is the moon and all the galaxies, distant purgatories.
There is the dollar and there is time, but not for everything.
There is a place and there are habits, just about for everyone.

There is a girl and a boy, holding hands together.
There is a boy and a girl, yelling at each other.
There is the singer speaking only of times past.
There is the crowd remembering what never was.

There is a chance and there is nothing, one waiting for the other.
There is a cage and there is freedom, depending on one another.
There is everything and there is nothing, not exclusive in their stance.
There is yin and there is yang, a bigger purpose than the pieces.

There is a mother smiling somewhere, her child is at her feet.
There is a father laughing loudly, tickle fighting with his children.  
There is a chef inside the kitchen, creating something new.
There is a hungry girl at the table, fork already in her hand.

There is a bed, with a family lying on it and they are sleeping soundly.
There is tomorrow and there was yesterday, but today is almost over.
There is a dream and a reaction, an explosion of motivation for the soul.
There is always something waiting, but just for those who seek it out.