Kite Flying

is a small world. She may never

know and they have a list. She may

never know, I'm very grateful.

She may never know and I could

have sworn we were getting along just

fine. I refused to say goodbye. 

I am still wearing those sun-glasses. 

She may never know that someone

once sent me a picture of her

on a boat in a little white 

sun dress, looking like a princess.

She may never know and I hope

I wasn't dreaming. But working

so hard to show the world real beauty.

No one seems to care. And I'm still

ringing that bell. It's not a nice

feeling. She may never know, yet

she showed her neck to me in a

passionate moment of silence.

I could make a good can of soup.

The illusion of money has

faded away. She may never

know and no ripple disturbs her

goodwill except my love. I want

to see her face. I want to see

her face. Her face again. She may 

never understand that complaint.

Bonus poem:

Rock and Roll (Zombie Asshole) by Darryl Price

 

They want to order you into code. You can

keep your religion. You can keep your house, your

wife. You can even keep your job. You just

can't escape. It's always been the

same curse. They get old and all their thin

dreams turn into wanting to control how you think.

 

They want to push you into line. You can

paint. You can color. You just can't explore. You

just can't escape. They want to prod you into

cattle cars. You can keep your fingers and your

toes. But be careful if you make a loud

noise. Be careful if you make a joyful sound.

 

There is no escape. They want to send you

somewhere nice and peaceful, so why does it feel

(so) inhuman? Oceans are made of movies. Clouds are

made of lights behind curtains. Stars are a collection

of dead shells on a plastic beach. Trees are

inflatable cartoons. If you are nothing more than code

 

you can be counted on to make the money

multiply. If you are nothing more than code you

will never fall in love. That's the sorrow of

it. They want to order you into code, a

sameness that makes individual choice a thing of the

past. C'mon, wake up people. Pick up a guitar

 

and plug it in, wake up the sleeping neighbors.

The children will respond first—they always do.  They

want to order you into code. But we say

no. We say lift the stone. We say choose

the right animal. We say ride for freedom. No

to lies. We say quit being a zombie asshole.