My Girl

I guess I just wanna feel needed, she said.
No, I replied, you just want to need.
My Girl
My girl is a porcelain doll with a split lip.
My girl says she’s a fighter but
More likely she likes the beat down.
My girl’s got gardens on her hands;
Dirt under her nails and
Roses on her knuckles.
My girl’s got witchy hands.
My girl doesn’t solve problems,
She doesn’t play the fiddle,
Just dances in the flames.
My girl’s too scared to get a tongue ring,
But I know she jumps off cliffs for fun.
My girl refuses to learn from mistakes
Broken mirrors and condoms,
Broken ribs and windows.
She’s flown down flights of stairs
And run back up them again.
My girl eats asphalt.
She licks up those yellow lines,
She’s hungry for pavement,
And can’t be satisfied,
With these country roads.

Make Me Understand

 Gay-Rights-March-MississippiI look around and I see so much happiness in this world. Dogs playing in water, horses running for no known reason, their hooves thundering the earth. I see water tumbling, leaves bursting into green, responding to the sky. I see beautiful people, people who say that all they want is to be happy and to help others be happy in return. I see good listeners, natural leaders, and two beautiful people getting married.

        But then I look beyond this first vision, and I see how little happiness really matters to the world. I see war and religion, fear and hate, and I don’t understand. Why stop happiness? Why kill? Why hate? I feel as if I’m sitting in the middle of a cyclone, roaring about me and I shout to the winds ‘MAKE ME UNDERSTAND. I WANT TO KNOW WHY!’ Garbled faceless screams answer me. They screams ‘economics, religion, scientific hoax’ and none answer my questions.

       
/>There are a thousand different voices screaming about their one true God. How can they all be right? And how can they hate me for not believing when there are far too many things to believe? I see people in love forced apart, people killed, poor getting poorer and the rich doing nothing, polluted streams, dying forests and I don’t understand any of it. They all roar at me, trying to make me understand. They fill my head with conflict until I can no longer listen and I clap my hands over my ears and scream, ‘SHUT UP! PRAY TO YOUR GODS AND KILL EACHOTHER, JUST LEAVE ME OUT OF IT!’ And then I hear one voice yelling at me, demanding to know why I don’t do something, rich as I am in my own little kingdom. They accuse me and demand to know why I don’t listen, why I don’t talk, why I hide. The cyclone whirls me along until I am part of it and someone else is standing in the middle, begging to understand, and when it is my turn to shout back, I will scream apathy.

147589,xcitefun-ganges-river-india