Recite-able at a coffee shop slam?
I would like to tell the world my aesthetic point of view on humanity and sanity on a struggle.
I would like to tell how I feel the need to stop and think about the world crumbing down in the dirt.
Its not just any dirt, people, it’s the dirtiest of all the dirt,
Wrenching in infection and germs putrid to the eye and stinging to the touch.
No one wants to cure that, help that, or remove that for public good.
It stays and grows in larger forms of mold and shown in streets of neighborhoods where kids play
Hopstoch while daddy drinks up his stoctch in his office with his sleeves rolled up to inject his medicine
illegal to the rough of the night when I send a letter in fright that he wont overdose on my human
sexuality. Oh please, don’t believe that the world will finally breathe if we still try to leave the way we
came here in peace of a minute or two when our mothers look at our eyes in wonderful sighs. We come
and we go and we trench through the dirt of infection that our soles become our souls. One day, then
it’s all a lie until we realize a change must come to place instead of a systematic space. I trace back to
the ancient days nothing has been replaced except a faster living pace. We fight, and we love, we soar
and we strive, but we’re still on this planet with no goodbye lullaby. Sanity is losing us in a battle long
fought for generations past and forth. All we need to do is stop in a tune of soothing sighs like how
mothers exhaled perfume of nature serenity. So ladies and gentlemen, hold hands and just breathe, for sake of unity.