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Oct 2010
A new day sprays my room with colors
and dust particles and light rays
like underwater sleep and showers.
There are chemicals to be blasted,
jackhammers with holes to pound
into mountainsides

This house looks like you and it was built in my honor.
Every time I climb the stairs, I hold your hand
Every wall, every angle, every archway, every door
They're all your eyes, your lungs, your veins
I revere in your deep colors.

Arms outstretched, a temple flattened
We will make our patterns loud and our faces heard.

I'd rather destroy this landmark than soil it with people
And their idea of success or power or God.
We are God. It's time we shout it.

We may not have every planet. Or the stars
Or the souls and tears of a million followers,
But we have knowledge. We have wisdom.
We have a healthy curiosity for more.

In this, we are the kings of our own world
We wear the crown of daisies and clouds
Muses are alive in every forest, every fence
Every field that we have wandered without sense
Every breath we have taken in this gulch.

When you looked at me, you didn't have to say anything.
I knew you were mine. I didn't have to say it.
And I wouldn't have given you the satisfaction in doing so.

This is a calling for every American soul aching to be free
I yearn for a revolutionary who will hold this man
With this face: no fear, no guilt, no pain
In the face of a billion firing squads,
At the edge of the gallows
With nooses around our necks.

This is a calling for a patriot:
"I threw that statue down the elevator shaft
Because I love you."
You are the most beautiful person I have ever known and I will never stop loving you. Dominique was a saint in her own right. But one must remember never to punish the ego. In the end, it's all one has.
Ryan Bowdish
Written by
Ryan Bowdish  Seattle, WA
(Seattle, WA)   
807
 
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