Christine Phillips Poet Narrative

The world looks at me

I woke up to paradise parading in the street, surrounded by a sweltering heat, the wind passed boldly through the street and the avenue met at the crossroads where the tales of ancient mysteries are told. The hearts of ordinary men grow tall and the four roads at the crossroad lead to the avenue of time, and I see heaven moving quietly on the line.
 
Where do we go from here, when you fight a war every year; why can’t you be at peace with the sea and allow hope to linger with thee. As the sun rise upon my back; I give life everything I’ve got, but I see guns, bullets, missile and rockets firing in the air and it cause my heart to fear.

You build the wall, and you break down the wall; and you fly around the world seeking a deal to rebuild the wall, you spend several hours on the plane, looking for a solution to end the game. Sometimes you come up short and you reverse the course and end up in the dark; I hope that you see what the world is doing to me. 

I can see you from afar, even when it’s dark, I can hear you on the line when the chatter is unkind. I have wrestled with these thoughts of timid men rising up out of the deep and disrupting my sleep. It bothers my soul when you say things that are not whole. It bothers me when the mirror keeps looking back at you, and you slide your finger on it and suddenly you acknowledge that something doesn't fits.

The world looks at us from different angle; the world looks on with courage racing up the hill looking for a tender spot where it can be still. Some businesses are undone while others are having fun, but I can look above me and read the sentiments around me.

You have got to pivot and show the world what you have got and roll out new talent that will book a ticket to heaven.   Focus the earth and hold to your skirt, fine-tune the line and the universe will meet you on time, and the heavens work it out in your mind. We need new shoes, new socks, new pants and frocks and the courage to move from the back.

You tell the world that we cannot read, and you have to exchange weapon for steel. Go back to building bridges and roads and focus on the things that will rapture our soul. The world must look at us as free men and women and not bond men and women rolling in the gutter of the heathen.
 The world looks at us boarding the big bus, the world looks at us as we celebrate our breakthrough.

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