To The Innocent

Musical Spoken Word

I find, truthfully

if you stare at the ceiling for eight and a half hours a night you begin to fear it.

Now I night pine for day time.

I want which I lack: day dreams, sunrise & sunshine,

I want to be missed, loved, and endless companionship.

I just want, want, & want; more, more, & more.

Though will I give? Have I? Do I ever?

Maybe, maybe not. I couldn't tell you anymore.

 

I couldn't even tell you about my dreams.

I couldn't describe or paint it out for you

if I dream of blonde, golden locks

or of diamond, crystal clear, sapphire sky blue, hazel sea green,

straight or straightened redheaded brunettes and bedroom eyes,

at once shining and reflective of nighttime gothic black,

refracting the fickle moonlight of punk rock fashion, or slow motion

indie summer dances, like Indian rain showering through my Autumn Melancholy,

or even of naturally occurring, undyed prep student beauty with religious-republican parents.

Like someone I could trust. But does Religion produce honesty,

or just blinding ignorance and binding, willful faith?

Am I really alone in a massive expanse of  universe void of the  logic, reason, and rational thought?

And what of this model girl I maybe, may have long ago dreamt of?

Or just dreamt UP?

That was when I dreamt, when I slept...

 

Because I don't.

Some people, they say they have insomnia,

at first I laugh, stumble, choke on my words, then gasp,

"Have you yet lost track of sheep?

Or have you tried dogs, cats, or frogs?

Does your mind allow it, or do you just have the internet?

Do you torrent?

Do you Reddit? Pintrest hashtag and instagram?

Do you like, status, update, ignore, app, request,

and flag the inappropriate?

Can you find my empty, ghost town pages?

Can you even see me up this close or am I blurred through the kaleidoscope of poetry?

Because we are here for poetry, right?

Well, I'm doing my best.

As if that were ever good enough.

This time I have eight and a half hours

over & over & over walls to count the cracks in

tiles to multiply and summarize

to make some up. To memorize? Weeks, maybe months.

To look down the barrel of federal guns and see YEARS is ultimately both humiliating and humbling.

but to deliver said poetry? Mere minutes. Before I disappear again

Because minutes?

 

Minutes I took for granted

like all other time, in here minutes are asleep.

Nothing passes.

No time, no privacy-

I took privacy for granted

and healthy arms

and dreams

unlocked doors

Tylenol PM

barefoot showers

peace & quiet

a full stomach

fresh cool air

long walks on tired feet I took for granted

the loving, clammy clasped sweaty sticky fingers and their future plans

 the scent and essence

of ivory and dove soaps, blended down bare backs

milky, silky coconut conditioner

sleeping in and IN the dark

full lips and quivering orifice

a wide open orchid

the delicious spit of a lover

sour tongue in cheeks, sharing, swapping rich fluid

 I took for granted

And breezy mountain trails

colored, tanned, sun soaked, dying October leaves

fresh lemon basil

pine and grass and raw soil

jungle gardens and wild backyards

the boom, boom, BOOM of long bassy canyon drives

ripped fording the curving, undeveloped roads

afternoon mountain air through morning hair

 I took for granted

Stained street lamps by night

crooked sidewalks by day

birds chirping

singing love songs

to cars passing

the sound of friends laughing

horns honking

chasing a crazy ball down the street through dirty gutters and tar patched black top

 

I took for granted

Wind chimes

open, CLEAR windows

singing along to

the MUSIC of life and

toking - maybe even ghosting too big of a hit at the summit with your best friend

 

I took for granted

presenting discord

speaking up

speaking OUT

voicing dissonance

denying faith openly, unafraid

escaping persecution

shouting obscenities to authoritative figures

and giving the finger to our figurative leadership!

 

seeing change, up close, blurred through the kaleidoscope of democracy!

 

 

I took for granted being alive and well

I took for granted freedom and liberty

 

Now I get to drink a little too much water and breathe the salty stale air alone and awake into and through all the hours of the colossal night " 8 and half hours

To think about what I done

And what I done wrong.

 

So here's a toast- to all those that roast on the inside with me-

and to the (not so) innocent millions passing by-

my plastic sippy cup is raised still-

no one thinks of us

but we're here

waiting

starving

rotting

locked on the inside

Author's Note

LISTEN!