I see

 

inspiration, pouring over the

 

dawn hinge horizon,

 

rays of a new age- thoughts.

 

I see

 

the door swinging,

 

hello daytime, the rush

 

and push-pull-fast-go

 

of a schedule.

 

We must do,

 

we must earn,

 

we must complete,

 

this is utopia-

 

minus perfection-

 

we listen to the hierarchies commands,

 

question? no.

 

I see

 

ignorance pooling in the

 

bottomless pits labeled tear ducts,

 

babies molded into

 

a design set for

 

destruction-

 

don’t think, just do,

 

don’t care, just act.

 

Why strive, children,

 

when

 

you can follow the sheep to

 

the

 

slaughter house?

 

I see

 

a flag of possibilities,

 

red blood smearing our steps

 

as middle class blue

 

debate the moral code

 

of this fine society-

 

let us not forget white,

 

pure, raw, blinding

 

…binding…

 

light.

 

I see

 

moments of white,

 

selfless kindness,

 

in genuine laughter,

 

naive intentions,

 

consumed love making.

 

The baby sucking at

 

hope, maybe, hope.

 

I see

 

the slice of skin

 

the burn of breathing,

 

attention seeking? or

 

death.

 

Proverb 3:14 commands the gays,

 

to love

 

like all common sensed

 

lovers.

 

Shamefully, common sense

 

is far from

 

common.

 

I see

 

you.

 

Striding,

 

wandering,

 

learning,

 

absorbing.

 

Hardly quiet, those

 

who claim mysterious

 

are foolish,

 

the novelties

 

written into your flesh,

 

the orchestra

 

strumming through your mind,

 

prove otherwise.

 

I see

 

myself,

 

a girl

 

a woman

 

a human.

 

Feeble attempts to lick

 

satisfaction and

 

bathe in

 

the orgasm we

 

coin knowledge.

 

To understand and fall

 

back in self pity and mindless

 

manners.

 

Be more, find more

 

listen,

 

-my tongue mastered the language

 

of empathy

 

while my mind crumbles and writhes.

 

A toddler heart,

 

cradled in him.

 

I see

 

time,

 

mocking us all.

 

For we waste it,

 

by speculating the

 

time

 

wasted

 

on wasting time.

 

Waste.

 

Ones mans waste

 

is another’s treasure.

 

Learn from the past, fold it

 

and keep it in your

 

denim pockets.

 

Find your present

 

and kiss her with

 

a passion

 

the wicked grin at.

 

Mind your future,

 

don’t live in

 

the true

 

arbitrary manner

 

it is defined.

 

I see,

 

I see,

 

I see,

 

I see the “holy angel-headed hipsters”

 

Ginsberg so masterfully

 

perceived

 

We are more than an

 

archetype.

 

I see,

 

so much through

 

my blind eyes.