Home » Posts tagged 'ideas'
The more I looked the more I noticed
people defending their freedom to speak—
when in fact it seemed and showed so clearly—
from their trembling hands to their worried eyes—
that they had given up their freedom to think for themselves—
and became defenseless, bold, and unexplainably proud—
having lost their voice long before it could ever be taken.
If we can accept ourselves
in life, and that in this life
we’re living, the right way
and the wrong way, mostly
aren’t ever in alignment
with our true nature of self,
rather it’s often
sideways we must go, sideways
like the pebble in the stream
knows only one direction,
and that chaos when reversed
reveals itself as precisely
the way it ought to be.
In the end
all of our
dumb ideas
eventually become
reality, whether
by our own hand
or another,
the dumb idea
to one
is somehow, always
genius
to another.
I climbed the Mountain and broke my ankle on the Molehill.
I no longer see the difference between,
watching my step like a raccoon in the night.
I know Matt Whitaker
I don’t know Matt Whitaker
Except, here’s the thing.
We’re not picking daisies
Mr. President
you’re running the country
Mr. President
and you don’t even know who you know?
Mr. President
America is not one of your companies.
America is not your next big deal.
America is not another bankruptcy for you to cash in on.
Mr. President
we’re not picking daisies,
but if we were
she’d love you not.
It’s people
who feel invisible
that do
the most heinous things,
and nobody
ever seems to know
who, what, where, when
or why such things could be done,
until after the fact
when there’s enough
evidence
to write a book in cold blood.
I try to hang loose
but always end up
twisted, like a
damp dish towel.
Stained and tattered.
Are we really back here again?
Rinse and repeat.
Haven’t you learned anything yet?
Rinse and repeat.
I bet you like it this way, don’t you?
It’s quieter here…shh!
With voices in your head? You’re too easy.
It’s alright if you sweat, just
don’t let them see you turn.
Are we really back here again?
Metaphorically speaking,
we never actually left.
Places just become new places.
People get replaced by other people.
Lies become fiction.
Truth becomes fantasy.
Like a damp dish towel,
twisting facts
until
they hang loose.
Words Of An Average White Male 