Yes, a baby
Asks questions
By the act of pointing
Or making a quizzical
****** expression

What is this world
What is the world about

It is so easy to Imagine
A baby not knowing
It is easy to imagine
Not knowing because
Who knows

Not the best of us
Not the stargazers
Not the book readers
Nor the book writers

Especially not the politicians
Who never stop
To ask the question
Or to ask any questions

Their nature is to accumulate
While they pretend to lead
While they pretend to guide
Their nature is taking

Some pretend to tilt
toward compassion
Toward caring
Toward altruism

No longer a baby
One grizzled octogenarian
Ask no questions
Merely wonders

Where has all of the wonder gone
He wonders if altruism is real
And if it is, why is
It ******* by greed

why are you so ******* yourself?
the way we're just pushing ourselves to the limit
being our own biggest bully
why do we do that?

I question at times if my love is as strong as my pride
Could I walk away from his touch,
Just to make sure I don’t look stupid before I do?
Am I already a fool to everyone else?
I was raised to think appearances mean everything,
But what if he’s not what he appears?
When our love looks in a mirror what does it see?
Does it see you holding me in the light?
Or is there a shadow with it’s arm around my waist?
Am I strong enough to love you blindly?
Could I walk away to find me eyes?
Or is the truth clearer than I allow it to be?
My love is so strong that I question whether it can be real,
And if it is real, am I strong enough to let it be?

milk is just grass
stupid questions
what's music?
*** is weird
there must be more to life
spider
can i brush your teeth?
i'd smile for you
even though you don't deserve it

(each stanza is a haiku - I think I’m in a Haiku phase)*

I never think of
drinking tea - that's just not
me - but I like it

there are a thousand
things like that which define us
- our many small choices

Are our passions choices?
"Our wild passions instruct us"
- said wise Shakespeare.

I don't choose to
quicken my heart at the sight
of one special boy

so I'm not sure
how that works, the pushes and pulls
of attractions grab

But the effect stills
and taxes the heart like maple
syrup thickened blood

You asked what am I?
I am just a bunch of unanswered questions which you always ignore and sideline!
Just a face to your questions,
from which you want to escape!

Feelings or Conceptions?
Emotions or Infatuation?
Love or Curiosity?

Is it wrong for me to question my inclinations?
To question my motives and reasons for loving someone?
Is it wrong for me to wonder whether or not I’m just attracted to one’s sensuality?
Perhaps consumed by their visual enticement—
Whether or not I’m just captivated by the unknown territory teasing me away from the norm?
Possibly seduced by the inexplicable euphoria unattainable by other desirable methods––

I am left confused,
Conflicted,
And in question.