If They Are Just Kids

emma

photo – Face The Nation

If everyone knew the correct answer,

then why would the children be so annoying.

If the adults might only listen for a reason,

then perhaps they might never again tease.

 

There seems to be a worthy cause on our horizon,

kids are speaking up, and there’s a faction of

human beings,

still want to only talk about guns.

 

They’re saying the kids don’t know enought

about weaponry,

the stuff that killed their best friend,

point blank in the head while studying pre-Calc.

 

Let’s teach them CPR states a diplomatic

asshole,

one that frankly might even know the color

of their own child’s eyes – ask the nany perhaps.

 

A great deal of anger seems to be the agenda

on both sides, tehre are issues and debates,

what’s different this time, says the speaker,

trying to find an inward path toward freedom.

 

Seems there might be a quiet revolution,

it involves the kids and their number are great,

if we decide they’re not worthwhile,

thank perhaps we must ask the question.

 

Why did we choose to raise children to be

the next generation of free thinkers in our society..

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In High School We Believed

Everything

mattered, occurred, became known,

whether we wanted notoriety

or a simple life as a student.

 

Remember walking the halls,

feeling the eyes,

wondering about thinking

that could expose your own state of mind.

 

I remember they told me otherwise,

so I trusted their ideal,

and when the walls caved in

they were nowhere to be found.

 

I remember the rumors,

she was so beautiful,

carried such a wonderful spirit,

no one would understand the hate in mirrors.

 

In high school, we lived many different lives,

some would last a week,

others perhaps a couple of days,

it only mattered if we could find definition.

 

When the word arrived in our mind,

how could we possibly imagine

telling anyone, especially those eyes we were

already afraid of, deathly afraid of knowing.

 

While the world seemed different outside,

internal walls protected our sanity

only when we accepted ourselves in earnest,

if not, we relied upon a mask.

 

Though the transparency, when noticed,

became the final reckoning, we did understand.

always just a little late …

Serenity

A silent muse,

peace, a posture

wishful

in why to seek

serenity.

A word,

create a visual

definition,

breathe in

breathe out

breathe again

for there is nothing

without.

I often want to travel back,

stand in the hallway

outside the cafeteria,

where I can still remember the double

locked

lunchroom doors,

almost feel their clasp,

like speaking

to my childhood

years later to suggest I did exist then.

The mind can choose to listen

or scream,

to advocate a fresh perspective,

or recall.

The eyes though have it,

they can see what happened,

the pain, fear, torment, confusion

of an adolescent nightmare.

Sing to me soft melody

allow me new serenity.

 

My Last Night

When the pain became too much
I stopped looking
Finally the strength
To step away overcame me
False reality
Bitter truths
Splayed before my eyes
Quite simply my heart was broken
In more places than even they could know

When a cry occurs
Soft petals
Rain soaked tears
Skin damp from streams released
Across my cheeks
The general public never sees
Trails of passionate fears
Not because they can’t visualize
The instance of pain

A child’s eyes
Meant to contain beauty
A sparkle of delight
Expressive response to a world
That allows her unbridled love
Safe to imagine
Without panic or anxious torment
Without slander or tactless assault
Only soft cushions of life

Why have all the children disappeared
Innocence and naiveté, and quiet love