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Wheels


by Darryl Price


We are all the strange things we've become, but 
only in cool looks in critical mirrors. 
The rest is still swirling space dust, imbued 
with its own heavy sigh. It's in everyone. 
It's everywhere, in all things, turning 
the real magic and philosophical 
mathematics into another 
remarkable Mandela sunset spinning 

its hot wheels and doing super donuts 
upon the parking lot of blocked out 
stars. We are the cute beastly things that suddenly 
crawled out of nothing, looking for 
the quickest way back in. It doesn't matter 
what for. I know you think so, but really, 
where did you get such an idea? 
You weren't born with it. The places in you 

that have filled up with hate so far weren't always 
so, let them go. They lied. It's somebody 
else's bitterness they've selfishly 
overstuffed you with. That's disguised greed looking 
for something more to consume, not love. 
Only love is love. Everything else is 
the false narrative shining its dead flashlight 
your way in your face. It's hypnotic 

zombie crickets being poured by the cupful 
into your ear. It's not you. We are 
always going to be whatever the 
holy potential creates. And we are 
the eternal potential, no matter 
what they have to say on the subject. Don't 
just complain. We are the things that have happened 
and continue turned into persons 

looking to express our love in as many 
ways as there are grains of sand. Even 
the darkness cannot destroy that urge growing 
in themselves. However, their childish 
tantrums can create war. Ironic isn't 
it, that war creates money? Love creates 
inner peace. Ask them, how does it feel 
to be hungry? To be blown up? They don't 

know. They pay someone else to have those feelings 
for them. We are the children's crusade 
still in business. We are the Beatles 
still making new amazing music across 
the universe. We are all the proof 
you need. We are the funny faces. We
are the starfish holding hands across all
the oceans. We are the change everywhere.    
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