Let me tell you with my own word
Hopefully devoid of something I heard
But how could it be that I could claim
An original thought when it might sound the same?
I can’t tell you how to love, only how much I do
It’s not so much the vow or the long days we work
Waiting to see one another only to share as we are able
The drudgery of our ritual to put food on the table
But is this what love has wrought?
Two people, together in the struggle of our might
Against the forces that may darken our home in daylight
Or paint frost upon our lips as the heat slips out of sight
It is not to say we are unloved or unloving
For we are, yes to the heavens we declare it so
But time, the scarcity of the age of the haggards
Where did it go, as we have become frantic laggards
So suddenly thrown into the ring
Wondering if we really have a King
“Off with his head” the common refrain of mind
“The revolution will not be about flowers this time!”
“No, though we wish for peace, we cannot wait”
“Forgiveness will come from our children, it’s not too late!”
“Save them, save them, that is all there is to say”
“If you wish to be trampled then try to get in our way”
Was this a movie or ten miles east of the peace of nature?
Could it be that such anger is so close to our home?
Join them ignore them how so a person shall live?
A picture of my daughter asked how much I should give
I could only say, "If he is a master of anything
it is the knowledge that pathological hatred
can be convinced of any fallacy by promise,
accept any subsequent betrayal or support
any blame as long as the root of the hatred
is validated by the rhetoric of the new savior."
The picture shriveled as it considered how
That the world's problems were hers now
But what is it that I can really say about it
Graffiti on a highway wall behind the trees?
Grocery cars lining the access road as if in mourning?
An old man who walks to his corner every morning?
The hopelessness of one who actually wants to work?
The fear that the law can change by every new crown?
Is war the only answer even though we know it's a lie?
Will we order more coffee and watch our perfect union die?
I need a flower bed to plant the baby I found in the King cake
Maybe someday someone or something will find it just as I did
Luckily I was warned but will the next one be so lucky?
I could drink it off at the corner bar as long as it's sunny
But it's not the way of the world to rely upon a toy doll
Maybe it's better in my pocket so I can show my wife
It will be a new story for when I get home while we prepare
For the next jet to the coast and talk to those who live there
"What do you know about it all?"
Is it that only a sad soul doesn't live by the beach?
It can only take so much wouldn't you say?
Give us this moment so we can think of a way
My Father always said he just needed one room
Can that really be the answer or is it the suffering of desire?
It's not just the room, it's where it is as well, for it seems
It's the only way to live with the things we'll never tell