I have this theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum.

When I was a kid, my tongue was a permanent shade of bright pink.  Shoving as many pieces of BubbleYum into my mouth as I could fit was the epitome of happiness, and when I could fit an entire package at once I knew there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.

And I’m sure that right now if you cut me open my stomach would be a fluorescent pink, because
when I see your face in my mind as I’m sitting in class or
when your name is on my tongue before I fall asleep,
that’s what it tastes like.

Bubblegum.

But please don’t cut me open. My dissection would be too ****** anyway, and far too colorful to detect butterflies…
Because my blood runs red, white, and blue.
When I was younger my mom would always tell me that as I grew older my tastes would change.  Of course, she meant that eventually I would grow to like peas, but even though that still hasn’t happened, she was right.  

Back then red, white and blue tasted like
      hamburgers
               and apple pie
                       and baseball.  

But just recently I cut my finger –
and as I brought it to my lips I tasted
      lingonberries
               and fish and
                        skiing.


Have you ever wondered why blood tastes like metal?  It is the
SWORDS and SHIELDS
that flow through my veins,
passed down from ancestors of millennia past.  And every time I am injured it pours out in protest, those ancient warriors urging me to fight against this strange land and this strange culture.
I was born away from home, as were my parents and grandparents before me. And as I feel the shapes of foreign words in my mouth they taste like meeting an old friend. Because I’ve come to realize that my blood never ran red, white and blue.  



                                                      ­            It runs rødt, hvitt og blått.

To stand in balance and connection
With the Earth
To stand on one's one
Without depending on anything
Not leaning on a wall for a breakthrough

To breathe on one's own
To breathe fully
Lungs
Blossoming and shriveling
Without the intake of
Toxic fumes
Or liquid rage
Not leaning on a vessel for a
Breakthrough
Attached to now
Love without borders
To be here and smile
Love outside conditions
Or held in the claws
Of expectations
to be here without an excuse
Or a divided idea to fall into

Even if this life
Just spins lives upside down
Simply because it can
Even if after everything
The world has evolved
To explodes in the Sun
Even if life doesn't have
A greater meaning than this
Moment
Even if our legacies
And our pain
Never mattered
Even if we die
And meet death
With blackness
And indifferent regeneration
One day our story will be
Forgotten
And we will never truly know
All the small details
That brought our atoms together

All of our ancestors within us
Encouraging us to stand
And breathe on our own
The animal kingdom
IS
And does not ask questions
All we have to do is look up
To know where it all began
The moon has all the answers
The stars we are made of
Will us to shine
Without illusory fuel
We are stronger than mental reasons
Subject to change at the blink
Of perception
We do not have to give
Our power away
We do not need motivation
To create
We are and it is a miracle
Enjoy the phenomena
That is the all
Expanding evermore
Towards infinity
This is where Existentialism  
Meets Spirituality

Is there a need to deny who you are?
And if there is what is the purpose?
Continue to pretend to be of a "superior" race, in the end you're still as the rest of us.
Slaves to a judgement based on the color of blood lines.
Admit to self that your heritage is as is known not as is spoken.
Stop the hipocrisy, and hunger for attention.
Clearly you lack patriotism and pride in who is truely running through your veins.

Trophies for last place,
And a Holiday for every weekend.
A taste of this and that...
OF Italy and Ireland and Asia and Germany
and every township in the county,
and 3 collective Miles of
Portable Toilets,
Strategically Positioned
throughout each event.
cause there is going to be a Lot of ****...

Hooray for whatever we are celebrating this weekend.
Whichever one of the 30 different Woodstocks
Or week long Music Festivals
That exist only so
the Hippest of Hipsters
can congratulate each other
on how Indie they are.

Ya know, it's happy hour somewhere...
Why not party
All Day, Everyday?
Devalue the weekend
Like we have thanksgiving
And New Years.
A Five Kay For the Common Cold,
And We'll even give trophies for last place.
Cause we're all winners here.
and we're all hungry.
And What represents your heritage better than
Pizza or sauerkraut or General Tso's
And endless flowing barrels of refreshing, Ice cold, Domestically brewed and Nationally brand recognized Alcoholic Beverages?

IT's The Great Dumb Down, Charlie Brown!!!
A symptom of the Universe
If there ever was one.
Mass anesthesia to keep us all content
With our collective mediocrities,
our Forfeit Potential,
Our Day Job that doesn't pay very well,
But kind has benefits.
So we stay on.
In fear of nothing better.
It makes feel important.
Like Wheel of Fortune makes us feel smart.
(Wow, you can spell?!)...
Dwindling returns in a world of Beige and Pastels
And the Muted Grays of limestone concrete.
We Accept less and we Get less and we accept less and we Get less
And On And on and on,
till we hit that lowest common cultural denominator,
where your race is what food you eat,
And we all qualify for the special Olympics.

The cup gleams gold in the light
Golden liquid overflowing
Round bowl on a slender stem.
On the table beside it are apples.
Red, yellow, glowing,
Globed sunlight bursting with juice.
Outside in the meadow, the cows
Brown and white, gentle eyed, lowing,
As the calf pushes and pulls on the ****,
Staggers a little and suckles.
Warm milk for the jug.
A blue and white bowl holds the cream.
Blue and white is the sky above
Brown and deep the buzzing of bees
Making the foxgloves bend and bow
Under the coolness of trees
Where the earth holds the richness of leaves
And the bones of the ancestors rest
In the land of the ever blessed.

I know who I am,
But not who or what I was.
Why can't I recall?