I open the front door to a blizzard; Welcome - bone aching air- into my (now your) warm home! You've expelled the warmth. I had spent so long accumulating that.
The chill came in Slight as a spider's silk Effortlessly tieing down my limbs Pneumonia induced coma Ground bound fly That is I We're going nowhere
Strength withers and erodes, Like long forgotten cobwebs beneath porcelain bathtubs and I know you take showers but the point still stands I'm rendered useless below the surface But abandoned in whole
I'm faucets rusted shut, Realeasing but a useless slither of Thick brick Orange Sedimented liquid Your negligence made using me a disappointment But we've been in this house forever And all our broken faucets are staying here.
Your breathless whisper was a hurricane, And my door would tear from the hinges before I could try to run from the damage that I foresaw
A conscious paralysis, Being only somewhat entirely aware Of your needfulness And my helplessness And our restlessness In all that we could never control
"Come in," I say "I'm sorry" you reply As you enter
Bugle call in cadence be spread your deep sincerity
Reverberate its call within our minds of good deeds done for better times
Heroes of every walk of life remembered by bugle sounds into vesper night It's sounding love of mankind and sacrifice About everyday people like you and me About brass sounds that triumph liberty It's sounding our land, not laid bare, by the right to speak It's sounding about lives laid down that freedoms seek And through that bugle call we see in taps that sound great dignity
We must fight not to relinquish our hard earned truth in bugle calls of our youth
Now i lay my bugle down to sleep And still i hear that sound that haunting sound forever be that ushers forth our dignity
Hang strong "We the People" have the masses. This poem was meant for people like Martin Luther King who gave forth positive contributions and died in helping mostly the middle class and poor; have a good 4th.