Timely Conversations
I couldn't help but notice your willingness for conversation
You left and returned with cigarettes and water
You've left out the crackers, but you've got enough to ease into the couch
We debate about god, about our fathers, and about our silence
We wonder if we're scared, and if we've survived yet
Instead of wandering about playing the victim, playing that card
The chair I sit in, debate with you in, is uncomfortably orange
Unwilling to form to anything that's even remotely orthopedic.
There's so many dreams riddled upon the shelf
Are we retaining the little pieces of ourselves that we are promptly displaying?
Could you use them as a weapon? Could you load your gun with my ammo?
I've often wondered how so many people with so many goals can
do anything but creep about aimlessly and lost
Where's the promised land in this global community?
Was it left behind, perhaps wandering as aimlessly as us?
You couldn't help but notice my lack of a smile as I sat
In that orange unorthopedic chair.
I sat there curious of your inquisition. Why such curiosity?
A conversation with a friend at a cafe, (much more comfortable than this)
Led to the conclusion
that your inquisition intends to display more of yourself.
Your sudden interest will lead to subtle spot lit moments
Where parts of yourself are discovered and released. Even celebrated.
I think it's as if we're lingering about such issues and delaying more progress
I'd die to bag your promised land, and perhaps achieve your perfect state
But nonetheless, the conversations drifts to soulful achievements
It's not in vain
It's not in vain
A lingering smile lifts your face, and I can see through your cigarette smoke
That you're pondering if perhaps we've met before, our familiarity is foreboding
It's noticeable, and it's a welcome change that our conversations will not offend
I speak of my hatred for said world matters, and you speak with noticeable innocence
Fear of nuclear war and fear of political upheaval, and fear of relations that have yet to exist
I couldn't help but silently ponder an escape route far up north should anything come of said relations failing
Your smile lingered deeper, and your innocence prevailed over such contemplations
I debate speaking, and offering you two shillings for your thoughts, with promise of change if needed.
What about God, you ask. My eyebrows cock out of shape, and I'm debating my response.
Do I share honestly my thoughts? Will you think that I'm laughing at any of your beliefs if my tone is misconstrued as sarcasm?
I had to watch my tongue, for fear of having you feel judged.
I finally got it.
I doubt if you were able to roam around the Universe, creating beings of flesh and thought,
That you would sit up in a grand chair, unlikely orange, and unlikely unorthopedic, and judge anything you set into motion.
The idea to me is completely atrocious. I would burst into laughter at anyone who defends such possibilities.
Again, the fear of having you feel judged lingered.
With said thoughts, your smile leaves, and you sincerely question yourself.
The day parts, Jesus-Loves-You rays of sunshine break through the clouds, and you wondered if there's a God, and if he has good hair.
My hair care products lined in my shower would no less render that question answered.
Yes, he does.
All you really have is your health, you beamed. With out any thoughts of a response
I agreed, perhaps too silently.
I suppose I wouldn't be here if cancerous tumors riddled my body.
I suppose millions of dollars wouldn't let me be here if that were the case.
My agreement, that was too silent perhaps, led to another revelation.
Should I let it be known that I too have longed for a soul to understand mine?
In all our years, I want to belittle your sense of urgency
The walls aren't closing in.
My extra years haven't led me to such conclusions, yet I debate yelling at you for your loneliness.
We haven't even been here for a half a century, yet we crave it more deeply,
Debate our own worthiness
Debate our own self-image
Debate our own richness
Debate our own completion.
My own self-worthiness left to destruction since I have yet to find a soul to mingle with mine
But I am a whole person, no doubt, with whole dreams, and whole processes.
I couldn't help being thankful that my body is with out a disease, and now I have time.
Perhaps to mingle with you, and admire the Jesus-Loves-You rays of sunshine
Still beaming through the clouds.
I debate speaking, and offering you two shillings for your thoughts, with promise of change if needed.
What about God, you ask. My eyebrows cock out of shape, and I'm debating my response.
Do I share honestly my thoughts? Will you think that I'm laughing at any of your beliefs if my tone is misconstrued as sarcasm?
I had to watch my tongue, for fear of having you feel judged.
I finally got it.
I doubt if you were able to roam around the Universe, creating beings of flesh and thought,
That you would sit up in a grand chair, unlikely orange, and unlikely unorthopedic, and judge anything you set into motion.
The idea to me is completely atrocious. I would burst into laughter at anyone who defends such possibilities.
Again, the fear of having you feel judged lingered.
With said thoughts, your smile leaves, and you sincerely question yourself.
The day parts, Jesus-Loves-You rays of sunshine break through the clouds, and you wondered if there's a God, and if he has good hair.
My hair care products lined in my shower would no less render that question answered.
Yes, he does.
All you really have is your health, you beamed. With out any thoughts of a response
I agreed, perhaps too silently.
I suppose I wouldn't be here if cancerous tumors riddled my body.
I suppose millions of dollars wouldn't let me be here if that were the case.
My agreement, that was too silent perhaps, led to another revelation.
Should I let it be known that I too have longed for a soul to understand mine?
In all our years, I want to belittle your sense of urgency
The walls aren't closing in.
My extra years haven't led me to such conclusions, yet I debate yelling at you for your loneliness.
We haven't even been here for a half a century, yet we crave it more deeply,
Debate our own worthiness
Debate our own self-image
Debate our own richness
Debate our own completion.
My own self-worthiness left to destruction since I have yet to find a soul to mingle with mine
But I am a whole person, no doubt, with whole dreams, and whole processes.
I couldn't help being thankful that my body is with out a disease, and now I have time.
Perhaps to mingle with you, and admire the Jesus-Loves-You rays of sunshine
Still beaming through the clouds.