Little Lines
It’s going to be clear skies from now on.
This year will be the year bluebonnets, Azaleas and Iceberg Roses grow as one.
I can smell them now red, white and blue, what an interesting sensation.
I can feel the warmth of independence flowing from each petal.
Micah wished for them once amongst the banter at a coffee shop.
From now on all I can see are dark skies,
Can I say America is a dark place?
Murder, rape, the loss of human integrity.
The reason for this is teen mediocrity.
The working man of beauty,
He tastes the warm breath of freedom,
He smells the tender embrace of brotherhood,
He feels the pen at the voting station.
“Carpe Diem”
It’s easy to say when you’re not digging a trench,
Or it’s an iPhone not a gun you clench.
People say the pen is mightier than the sword,
That makes sense,
It’s always the Pens that send the swords to fight.
Days will come when freedom is no longer such an easy affliction.
He goes home and looks in the mirror, he sees not Washington but himself,
Then bursts into a sense of individualism.
Freedom is not a country,
Freedom is a person.
This experience is so common,
These feelings so regular,
These sounds so ordinary.
