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If I ever have children I’ll teach them about god On Family road trips In a mini-van With a candy wrapper carpet And warm melted crayons In the seats grand canyons As the Arizona sun sets Over the Copper State Where you could almost swear It was the red dusted desert Painting the sky Rain-less-bows of color With broken butte brush stroke Across the restless desert As you twist around in your seat-belted Body of eight years old To the rearview window Of an AC blasted Softly singing stereo Escaping out gaping windows Leaving nothing behind But a heatwave Trying to settle down Tire teased dust For the evening stretch ahead That you think might never end As if god was using the road as a string He had tied tightly to the family car Carving the way though Salty cactuses drinking licks of sand left by Dirt devils dancing across the graves of Lizards Who pretended they didn't exist But couldn’t fool the hawks Who watched and waited For more than just a lost tail Or a forgotten story But something clay Concretely carved in to caves and caverns With rock and bone Something solid to hold on to But my children need to know That an existence is a slippery thing Like the color from the buttes As it slowly drips off the sky And back into the sand Leaving speckles of white Freckling the blackness Swirled with little Tizzles of light As homage to the desert moon Whose crying stars for Coyotes Howling in time To the crickets metronomic harmonies   Singing the desert back from its camouflage Life bursting breath though The earth cast shadows Breathing heart beats across the land That's just been Brought back to living And if I ever have children I'll teach them That this road will never end At least not where we expect it to Because god Isn’t who We make him to be He Doesn’t string us along a road But he holds the world on a string                                                           The End.
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
Strung Up
If I ever have children I’ll teach them about god On Family road trips In a mini-van With a candy wrapper carpet And warm melted crayons In the seats grand canyons As the Arizona sun sets Over the Copper State Where you could almost swear It was the red dusted desert Painting the sky Rain-less-bows of color With broken butte brush stroke Across the restless desert As you twist around in your seat-belted Body of eight years old To the rearview window Of an AC blasted Softly singing stereo Escaping out gaping windows Leaving nothing behind But a heatwave Trying to settle down Tire teased dust For the evening stretch ahead That you think might never end As if god was using the road as a string He had tied tightly to the family car Carving the way though Salty cactuses drinking licks of sand left by Dirt devils dancing across the graves of Lizards Who pretended they didn't exist But couldn’t fool the hawks Who watched and waited For more than just a lost tail Or a forgotten story But something clay Concretely carved in to caves and caverns With rock and bone Something solid to hold on to But my children need to know That an existence is a slippery thing Like the color from the buttes As it slowly drips off the sky And back into the sand Leaving speckles of white Freckling the blackness Swirled with little Tizzles of light As homage to the desert moon Whose crying stars for Coyotes Howling in time To the crickets metronomic harmonies   Singing the desert back from its camouflage Life bursting breath though The earth cast shadows Breathing heart beats across the land That's just been Brought back to living And if I ever have children I'll teach them That this road will never end At least not where we expect it to Because god Isn’t who We make him to be He Doesn’t string us along a road But he holds the world on a string                                                           The End.
kenzi-joy
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Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
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