But who am I to judge
I say what eyes see
But what are eyes
And what do they really
out of life
and every rapture
But we know too much
and know nothing at all
Don’t say you’re alive
and die in conversations
like leaves in fall
And I fall
and by that time, we’re already apart.
Locked in someone else, but myself, through my art.
How can I be embarrassed when it’s already definite
that I am who I am
no I do not want green eggs and ham
Sam I am….but who really am I
I’m no more important than dust in space, and on that note
what else do I need to do, to save face- but float.
Life is, what you are not, it is everything, and we can’t experience it all, but we’ve got……
that…..electricity through our veins and Goddamn, or Allahdamn, whomever tries to stop us….
All smiles on your face, curled up in the corner with nothing but jeans……you silly bitch, how I love you, and that’s all you should need from me.
Half your lips dressed in lipstick naked with no mission, but me.
That’s how life should be, ignoring all that isn’t, all that is, all that is….me
They say plan for the future, but I will be planning for the now, fuck the future- do I live in 2011, when it’s 2010? No, so why worry about the egg, when I’m the rooster, not the Hen.
So from our finger tips, let it rain dust, and stifle all the weak minded, fat skinny people, and the tall short, pretty ugly…people…under rock, or under a steeple, we are nothing more than other’s thoughts, just people…
So is it too much to look up in the air, knowing no one is there…then look to my mother, or your father and ask…do you care?
I need life, more than a cigarette needs air.
-Steve M Rich