my father is a fortified man
with dark, verdant eyes
that shame the forest moss
that burn harsh and cold
seeing through deception
honest, stern, but fair
my mother is a gentle woman
with soft, cerulean eyes
that transcend the clearest sea
that glow bright and warm
always saying the right thing
tolerant, caring, but unwavering
and I was born with that azure gaze
though mine is not same
on half my left eye
a drop of my father's jade
and so I see the world
as an even balance
through both my parents eyes
Misty fog surrounds the trees
I wrap my shawl tighter around
Blocking the cold drafts surrounding me
I can see the men wrapped in shawls wearing lungees
Their heads wrapped in cotton scarves
Huddled closely around a fire nearby
Rickshaws pass by ringing their bells loudly
Dogs bark at street noises and a kitty wanders in
Under the gate
In the distance the wail of a train's horn and
Cars beeping as they go this way and that
Plowing through the streets
To their destinations in various parts of the city
The clouds shifting back and forth
The mist of the fog melting away to
A glimmer of the sun peaking through
Giving promise to a beautiful day ahead
Green, golden and beautiful
Breaks the dawn in Bangladesh
Treats, and Trickster's ghoulish-ly
entertaining the popular vote;
immigration reform is on the ballot
once more, looking more like a
menu dessert item, condiments
cost extra.
Masks covered by masks,
Costume Forums, a masquerade
masquerading day and night, dreams
and nightmares. Knocking on my
door with political propaganda as if
my views were wrong for being
different than theirs.
There is no US or THEM only YOU
and ME standing united, our fall
divided by a vote, which most live
and die for. The only vote that counts
is what the MAN says; voting is a
systematic approach to classify the
masses, labeled mindsets, puppets,
a trickster's treat.
Soulkritic® 2014©
Falling through the repeated days
In a set trance in the dark eternal craze
To a tired struggle I kill another dove
and forget what I made a promise to be free of
Because it's simply easy, and rather too fun
But when I gained another side, I lost sight of the sun
I feel not to go around and walk a set path that fits my shoes
Looking at myself, these are not my own hands, nor my own views
I'm trying to find a person who I can call me
To be familiar with and call my own what I can see
But in the end it all tears apart sooner or later
The person I thought I knew inside is my only traitor
I change another face to fit another set day
To think it matters, but it somehow never did anyway
Everything can change from a single teardrop from the eye
But then again, who am I?