An old green t-shirt, in the corner
Lying on the floor, crumpled and faded,
Thoughts of the intended owner have their say,
All manners of time have left their stain in white,
Scoffing as they leave, post haste and diligently,
Dilema to the head, to bask and smile at then
Or to perform a twisting decay more towards today,
The t-shirt is tossed to the cold ground and rain,
A walk to search and scavenge for God knows what,
Impressions from a sigh atomize the rain,
Catching it in place long enough to feel its leave,
Paths of concrete softened with the sheddings of trees,
Soggy yellow wisps that once supplied,
An entire years worth of hope and life,
Until they too faded and now provide
Both support and resistance for distance I transverse,
Only as the rain secedes from the sky can my eyes rise,
We knew it was a facade, however well made,
Just like you said my eyes are ice, glazed and blind,
Clouds concealing stars.
Okay make it snappy
I am bush boy, take the light from my face
You say this not about my race
Okay, what is it about
I have no opinion about the White House
They are all adults there, ask them
Yes, I would think you heard that before
I am not Columbus, you know
I am sweating now, can I go
And see Niagara Falls?
O, perfectly, I understand
I sound subversive because of I speak of wars
I pity you then, you ignorant Christian
Wait until you see
What God has in store for the end of the world
O, you have heard of the apocalyptic vision
Well war for me is just a condition
A dialectical confrontation
From the disproportionate satisfaction
Of human needs
Shouldering broken ladders of ambition
War comes when tolerance secedes
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