Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

Where’s this going?

All things yellow
began sweetly
before bitter, sour,
cultivated a taste.
Salty, simple sweet
in their dark.
Walls gleamed,
light-bent streaks —
but break?
Heaven forbid

stirred drinks deceit.
Jonestown day
soon to arrive?
Gulp it down
before it’s gone
amid the throng
gathering, suffocating,
elbow spaces, wedge
wayward to the stage?

Climb on up,
get the first draught.
Sip, savored slow,
built resistance.
Their preen wings,
fluttered soft,
eyes fire aglow
all things yellow.

You arrived child.
Down on your knee,
feel purpose, worth,
eternal wealth with us —
eternally heal
amid your huddled souls.

The stage is bear
and you stand there,
sap flows everlasting
in a thick head,
weary soul. Nowhere
to go but sit all alone,
rub a fresh, pale heart.

Nothing bleeds like this.
How was I to know.
So, I roamed…

Chapter 2

written on my heart
as red as this face
shame for misunderstanding
the true purpose
of an indifferent space,
without much grace
like Samson tore it down
felt a frown fire
singe those phony wings
Truth did sting. Stung
retribution did not come
but …

More to add

Chapter 3

Building to something

For citizen journalist

When You’re Defeated

Shun me some more
Bring it
Fire glowing bright
Make it burn hotter
Don’t start respecting me
And disappoint villain
You on the ropes?
Who’s the protagonist and antagonist
When victors write his story
Battles won, war fixed
But I’ve just started
Loving our game
I’ll keep you standing
When you’re defeated

Asking to give it back
Is like asking to give back all memory
Even the good, and forced to refuse
And conform because your yellow is wings like ours
But, you’ll never fly, but could become
Our anti-Satan. What does that mean?!
Level up to our heaven, or
Be forsaken. By who? Faceless? Who??
Shut up and drink gd koolaid conformist, I mean
Child.

Work in: The Daily Interrogation
Collect it, disseminate it
Get paid, no harm. What?
We’re selling odd human souls, their collective worth
Piece by piece. Junkyard/salvage yard scrappers
Of decaying minds and broken hearts
Hoping your love transcends their writing
Into profits sold off site, black market,
Under tables, while holographic corpses aimlessly drift
How beautiful the carcass angels. Too bad
They weren’t one of us. Florida is a good place
To set up shop, card table, three card monte
And dream of the big con, payday.

10.10.23

{line:╭∩╮(Ο_Ο)╭∩╮}