by Darryl Price
How Not to Fire a Gun by Darryl Price
They always want you to pay attention
to their drooling evil crap, but I've seen
something else worth seeing in your open
eyes today. They want you to be afraid to die,
but I've never been more alive in your
arms than now. I'm already late for joining up
with their nationalistic crews anyway,
why start now believing in something I'm
never going to be for in this
lifetime? I'm telling you I'm okay just
watching you walk in the sun of each day.
It's everything I dreamed of, your body
making perfect sense of every new breeze,
every wandering cloud. Universal
language. I understand it in my head
immediately. They want you to just
blindly put your head into their money bin
traps, but you were made to wear an ocean
of living stars in your hair, dance under
the biggest brightest full moon ever recorded. They tell me
it's plain stupid to care, but I still do,
each time I hear you say my name. I'm
telling you now I'd rather listen to
your breathing than learn how to fire any gun.
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This is something I said to myself while looking at the sky, and I kept repeating it to myself all day long. Finally I wrote it down, planted it in the page, and watched it grow into its own poem. Obviously there was a lot more feeling behind the initial feeling that also needed to be expressed.
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Beautiful portrait of the sky.
Excellent.
*
Sublime! xx
I look at it constantly.
"Dreaming with the sky." Good poem. *
"...something terrible with the wind and rain..." That damned reality just won't let us be. You've caught it all, Darryl.
Thank you all so very much!