The Watcher
I watch a hare race all about the woods,
Along with children from the neighborhoods.
Stiletto claws of hawk pounce on a mouse
While I am watching from the wooden house.
Today I watch the rain slide down the drain
As silver-threaded drops still drip in vain.
I love gray days when rain's contained in pools,
Almost as much as I love watching fools.
I watch and wait with great intensity
To change my range of brain activity
Indigenous to journeys near and far
Beyond Orion's belt to every star.
A child must stay a child inside the wild
When childhood as a child has been defiled;
For then is when the watcher comes alive
To help the minds of children to survive.
I pray away demonic thoughts that play
Upon my troubled mind in every way,
But prayer and medication stem no tide
Of fulminate psychosis I abide.
My dreams seem quite disturbed I must admit
And hope that most will fail to ever fit
Inside the pride that hides in memory
Where rarely can one find reality.
Both father and fair mother lie in beds,
So cold and dead since I split wide their heads
To see if I could see why I am me
With hope to change my future history.
Tomorrow I may borrow your fine mind
And peek inside to see what's left behind;
I hope to find the wine of wisdom's soul
Then hide your borrowed brain inside a bowl.
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