Cool Calculated Moves

Cool Calculated Moves

A Poem by Scott Lee

Don't rush experience
It will come like
A fat splat of bird s**t splattered on your young nose as you walk home from school with your friends, it will come flying down out of nowhere in front of the whole cheerleading squad of hotties with their perfect everything looking right at you. Your friends don't stop laughing. You don't stop cursing.

It will come out of nowhere
A loaded deadly fist knocking you off your feet, your soft skull crunching down on merciless concrete.

It will breeze by in cool calculated moves when someone gives you 5 bucks for a meal.

your eyes fill up with liquid drops of salty warming oceanic ripples.

The security cameras on every block are watching so don't forget to smile, spit and flip them the middle finger like it's your last. Give it like you mean it.

Watch everyone size you up
With their all knowing judgmental eyes.

Tally up your piggy bank for a craving of wild berry skittles.

Now you have to walk through gang land and risk your life for a taste of rainbows.

Cipher truth from the cut and dried, forgotten heroes pens' who stalk libraries with their warnings and wild bohemian screams.

I will find it if I have to look for three years straight with ink tattooed to my unique fingertips.

I have dived head first into pools of cold blooded sharks, fearless of death waiting for the premeditated murder reflecting in their eyes to just bite down and do it. Don't threaten me tough sharks. I ain't scared of nothing except total tyranny so go head and shoot cause I'm not getting a microchip on my wrist or in my head so you can own me. That is complete insanity. Go find another world and take all your nukes and play king of the s**t-heads and dumb f***s over there. Leave me alone. I just want some f*****g skittles tough guy.

Don't rush life.
It will happen naturally without you forcing anything.

It will race down from the top of the hill like an outrageous friend and tackle you as you go down into the biggest, stinkiest pile of dog s**t ever existing in the universe and smother you with endless laughter.

Don't worry stay positive
As you land in the slammer
The indifferent concrete is only temporary.

Divide your imagination up in sections and send it out there.
What the hay. See what happens. Maybe you'll have a revelation and figure out a small piece of the grandest puzzle ever created.

Maybe a red Fox will sneak inside the place with magic keys in its sly mouth.

Maybe stones will shard out skittles.

How did so many big shots with power trips get to have so much power over good people with humbling eyes?

I keep reasoning with power hungry giants only to be charged with misconduct.

Put up another sign that says No More Questions or No Free Thinking Allowed
All Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight.

Don't worry the stakes are high
They can forecast the weather and get it wrong and f**k up your camping trip.

Damn those busters.

I need a break.

I want to move like shadows crossing lawns in cool, calculated moves.

Some sweaty group of fat kids will thank me for relief.

I could rush down with May flowers and twirl them in front of your pretty little face, it still will never be as cool as a wind doing it with no hands.

What do you write when the rage comes out of the closet and strangles all your good, positive thoughts you had last week.

Now I have to work over time to get back to bliss and beauty.

Or maybe black strangling rage is part of it too.

Keep listening for answers blowing petals through the fence holes.

Keep counting up their lies.
It's growing higher than Jack's bean stalk.

Who is moving the earth with cool, calculating moves with just their mind?

What does love have to do with it?

Am I love?
My choice.
Are you?
Let's unite our love and fight these power trippers with that, because that's the only thing that can win.

History proves what happens if we don't.
Endless war.
Till there's no one left.

Let's move with cool, calculated moves like armies of clouds and block their fake powered Sun from view and watch it die quick like a worm drowning in our rain.




© 2015 Scott Lee


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Added on April 26, 2015
Last Updated on April 26, 2015

Author

Scott Lee
Scott Lee

Ashland, OR



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If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound, sears, tears, groans, and curses, know they came from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words, and his w.. more..

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