Issues that don't effect you is like
The news in another country.

We don't need to get involved
To know what's going on

But want to know to stop it
Occurring again

Or to reduce the increasing amount
Of ignorance, globally.

Ever-darkening storm clouds
cluttering up my perfect blue sky
their temper my peace shrouds
awaiting for them to let fly

Raining on my parade
no room in my world for a grinch
keeping up my happy charade
from their expression I flinch

I sneakily exit the room
returning to my contented place
they can drown in doom and gloom
on my visage, their mood, no trace

At the going down of the sun
will the world be less complete,
the cinched robe of night less intolerable,
as she ebbs away on cosmic string,
emulating a massless, dazed neutrino
blinking in and out of existence,
unobserved and uneffected,
liquored and unloved?

In the wake of a June flowering,
when foxglove lures the honeybee
in six day flash, bud to corolla,
blossom to blossom, parade of stigmas,
digitalis stamen braved, anther at his back,
the bee comes gathering where none else dare.

In a short 24 hours
We transition from
Condemning the lack of
gun control
Shouting cries of
Murderous misogyny
Lamenting over lost souls
Innocent
and Never Forgotten
Players in our Facebook Novels.

In one day
We switch to watching
Glitzy action films
Of men in tight suits
Saving individuals
Innocents
Quickly forgotten.
Because we are reassured that
At least one is safe.

But not until after
We see 20 minutes
At least
Of destruction
Chaos
Explosions
of Innocents
Screaming and running
in Terror
Fearing for their lives
From a madman on his
Massacre
Innocents
immediately forgotten.

And we are uneffected.
We do not mourn over these
Innocents.
Despite seeing them die
We are unaffected and Entertained
Before our very eyes
We saw them.
And we forgot them.

They are not mentioned
They are not remembered
And they are not Lamented
In our Facebook Novels.
Despite the fact that
We Know
These tragedies actually happen.

there, in those strawberry fields of dreaming-
those blooms of a season long since dead and torched-
     i swore i found you
and you were speaking sweetly in a smokey room
with a crescent smile
and a cheap long-neck bottle
and a blue ball-point pen
that you'd only pry from it's waltzing
     to chuckle with (and charm) the bartender

an older lady
with muddy-water curls
and poision ivy eyes
     and...there's something about her that reminds me of my mom...
then the moment's gone
and now, all i can wonder
is how it is that she's counting change when she hasn't got any fingers

the captain must be on the mic again
with bull-**** banter about the weather
     or our eventual destination
     or something about the turbulence to calm the unfortunate un-drugged
his monotone monotony
sneaking through my sleep to me
     and coming through like the voice of the radio host
     as my head's beneath tepid bathwater

your ellegance uneffected by his audible intrusion
into my sub-concious dellusion
     you pull at the tides of your brew
     and wink
then back to a busy pen

     i have to get to you
you've got to remember
  
come back

but dreams don't work like that

it's as if my feet don't match my body
or my legs are facing backward
or i'm in that godforsaken hallway scene of "The Shining"
     and i'm finding this to be far more frustrating
     than remaining concious through the flight could have ever been

and again
somewhere over nebraska
the ride gets increasingly shaky
     not obnoxious enough to wake me
     just enough to take me to the part of the nightmare
     where my teeth start falling out
          like precious little gems of vicodin and nicorrette
               t a p p i n g out my fragile skull
and now i'm wearing some ******-gummed grin
and that charming lounge is feeling like "From Dusk Till Dawn"
and all of the friendly faces are gone
     except for yours
          and you look horrified

how come now i've got your attention?

touchdown at o'hare
and i wake in the window seat next to a vacant chair
     alive and well
except that you're not there

and to think
     when i was a kid
          my nightmares all had fearsome beasts
then i grew up
          and found the monster to be me

when i look at my body
i have only ever seen
a topographical map of every
failure and self-loathing thought
that slowly destroyed it
neglected and broke it

but under your hands i
forget about all that and feel
flowers blooming from the cracks that
desolation left as your fingers and
kisses remind me that even crooked
trees still grow upwards and that

the most majestic of mountains
remain standing tall through time
uneffected by the scars and faults
that history left on stone

Your hands are ink
Staining all that you touch with your singular finger print
We all get lost.
I get lost,
In it's ridges and complexities
Perpetually held in wondrous confusion
You are black coffee
Pumping into all of my veins,
Alive
Like a rush of oxygen to my blood
You are my siren
Luring me to the edge
I see the parts of me you tore apart glistening just below,
But I can't resist
All of your music
Makes my memories of pain
Nothing more than a light breeze
Barely rustling strands of hair
You are a white sun I can't help but stare at
Even as I go blind
While I am a candle
Dull and lifeless
In the presence of your intensity
You are an unruly sea
Your magnitude uneffected
By my timid presence
I love you for all the reasons you hurt me.

I know I'm not the best.
Not the best at
Loving, fighting, living, giving.
Living a life hidden in shyness
And a lack of courage.

And I know I don't deserve you.
You are perfect,
Like an Angel
Untouched
Uneffected.

And I know you don't deserve me.
No.
You deserve something more.
One who'd die for you,
Like myself,
But exists on your higher plane.

And I know I am stuck
here, down on Earth,
Getting what I do deserve,
Harsh, threatening words from those I pass.
I walk on
As if I don't hear them,
But I take all their slings and arrows
Unarmored and exposed.
If I truly deserve anything
I deserve something less.
It is only by God's grace I am
Human.

I have undoubtable proof
There is a God;
Without him,
I'd be an ant
Trampled upon by all above me.

You are so far above me
I can't see you clearly,
Which just shows
You deserve something more.

Something more than shy
Something more than a coward
And something more
Than a human
Exposed to the slings and arrows of bitter fortune.

Those who choose to dig deeper
must be willing to accept the dirt as truth
and the mess as proof
The only resolve is sharing tha loot
with those who seek not to be aloof  
those who can recycle  
improve reuse
Otherwise your pursuit becomes futile and vanity in roots
That holds you trapped in a place that never bore fruit.

Like a Pirate
Tied to a ship
who's sunken into
frozen winter drifts
Yelling at everyone who passes by
Uneffected Bitter Colder Less Productive
An Ivory Tusk Burned in private on public telivision

if there is
if there is
If there is all the things that thrive within the being
those that never die, those that perdure untouched, uneffected by the outside lores
then there is always the presence of forgiveness
the room for second chances
and there is return