Infected by superstition like cockroaches we multiply

We’re lost in the battle frozen by what we see

Like parasites we feed negative thoughts we breed

This world suffers in agony and no one here is free

We are alive in this moment until reality sets in

We are fed all the lies until it becomes the truth

But we know deep inside there’s something not right

We will rise to find out what it means to fight for our own lives

Until we do we must change our attitude on life

And love again and know wrong from right

To be the difference in a world that succumbed to peer pressure

We must remember what it means to be better

Contaminated by the hate until humanity is dead

Lost we are wandering in search of a vaccine

Diseased we are spreading engulfed into the flames

We are told not to think for ourselves and follow what’s mainstream

We are alive in this moment until reality sets in

We are fed all the lies until it becomes the truth

But we know deep inside there’s something not right

We will rise to find out what it means to fight for our own lives

Until we do we must change our attitude on life

And love again and know wrong from right

To be the difference in a world that succumbed to peer pressure

We must remember what it means to be better

Our world is broken

Never-ending wars and violence 

Capitals fall while the lucky and privileged flee

Cries of despair imploring: 

“Lord have mercy.”

Our world is sighing

Shaking ground devastating already fragile lives

Recovery not even close to complete before the earth cracks open again

Rising temps and raging fire leading one to believe 

We are actually melting

Our world is sick

Sick with disease that kills the body

Sick with disease that warps the mind

Altogether weakened by arguments and policy built by ego and ambition and privilege

Altogether weakened by the certitude of rightness with never a hint of nuance 

Our world is hurting.... yet it continues to breathe

Our world cries out... yet it continues to turn

Our world is tenacious

Voices speak

Bodies march

The call for humanity and compassion and equality refuse to be silent

They refuse to be silent

Our world is hopeful

Sacrifice becomes the language of caring for our neighbor

Humility becomes the catalyst for hearing our neighbor

We lean in and listen to the stories of the unknown and we see them, truly see them as we look them full in the face. 

Our world is beautiful

Complex and messy

Intricate and lovely

Changing and waiting with broken hearts and hopeful expectation

For better

I find

strength

in love.

It's

afterall

a sword

of fire

that

cuts

through

diamond

worms.

You're

the gladiator,

and I

hold

the shield.

Mad Max

fury

fused

into

our hide.

You didn't

prove

love wrong,

even when

I couldn't

lift the wall.

The heart

of this beast...

you've made

strong.

I throw

down

your helmet,

lift you

upon the

hard cold

wall.

As petunia

bludgeons

surfinia

falls.

I bite

down

your shoulder

as the thrust

velocity boils.

We

howl

to moon

like a woof!

Hoooooowwwwl!

I’m just a regular guy. I haven’t seen much, or done much. What am I supposed to write about, anyways? Couldn’t Prose add a wormhole that would transport me magically into a module bound for mars, or to a nuclear submarine under the ice caps? Wouldn’t I have a better story to tell, then?

I wish a button on Prose could show me into the down-trodden soul of a high school dropout, or allow me to feel the angst of a middle aged housewife who is fed up with looking after two kids and a husband, and is wondering where her life choices went wrong. So where is that button?

And wouldn’t it be helpful to my writing if I could feel what others feel, see what others see, and even do what others dream? Wouldn’t it, though? What we need is a place to find those types of things, so that we might find our own inspiration.

What if I could be shocked awake by a gun blast out from the dark of night, or slip a razor-sharp blade between some villain’s ribs until the heartbeats can be felt on my fingertips? What would that do for my writing? Or if I could stir around the stars and drop them closer to home, maybe in some black, backwater pond, so that we could sit alone together in wonder as they swirl through the night like some heavenly snow globe... wouldn’t she notice me then, my love? Wouldn’t she have to, then?

And what if, even if only for a short while, you could make me drunk with lust, or crazier than I already am, or strong enough to always win in the end? Wouldn’t I show up then to your site, if you had a wormhole like that?

That is is what I am looking for. If you could add a feature like that it would never fail to bring me back, time and again. Everything else is just bells and whistles after all, and did you ever notice how whistles and bells always ring hollow?

Wait... what’s that? You say you already have a wormhole that can do those things?

Well then! Eureka, Prose!

Sign ’ol Huck up for gold!

She said

the magical

words

for the first time.

I guess I’ve

always known

deep in my heart.

She’s bowling

Petunia to a

stand,

and he does

not like to

miss the target.

She hits the

perfect pin,

the right

places my soul

is in need.

I’m getting

lingulata.

Crave her

purple vein...

lushy surfinia,

the bushy

escape.

I’ll eat

your body

in more ways

your voice

breaches

my rocky

crust tangerines

I want your

double lollies,

the flavor

leaves

an after taste

that keeps

me hungry.

I’ll whip

them with

my frictional

Jelly till

they’re

berry

cheesy.

Petunia

hits

the frosting,

moisty

toppings

of

Surfinia leafage.

I’m not rushing...

Slow

brewing...

lots of noises,

you call me

bubba

and I add

more honey.

Huuuh! Huh!

Baby.

I was at the gym,

needed to flex my muscles

for no reasons

in particular,

don't ask me?

I can see through

what she's wearing

from a distance.

No coconut cups,

just the

cherries on lollies.

I'm salivating

and burning up

glucose,

It's not because

I'm jugging,

don't ask me.

She sees me from

a distance

twitching

like a cranky

robot.

Raises her hands

up high

to repack

her beatiful air.

Behaves like I'm

not watching,

lollies triple

naughty.

Petunia flashes...

she laughs

hard but tries

to hold it in.

I came closer to where

she's standing,

humbly

calling out her

name in public.

Bends to the ground

like a pen

was missing,

the sensitive petals

of petunia

glitches

like a corroded

sword in a movie,

classic...

Gym session was over

and I'm sweating,

in need for her purple vein,

the tales of it magic

grips me.

She's in trouble tonight,

so much trouble,

believe me...

Tall, bright, tall and rude

rude, tall clean and nude

loud noise

I ignore

up, down, in and out

up, down, in and out

over and over, it all happens again

Tall and loud I see my pattern

Tall and loud my home is done

Home sweet home, tall and loud

a shadow blinks over me,

It comes to a tear

they didn’t tear

my home sweet home

you're no longer near