its 4 am and im writing...

this was suppose to be another update. it was meant to be a post telling everyone how: im spitting a poetry venue here in St.Louis Feb 1 and i dont wanna go in doing the same old pieces. so, im back on the grind to write....trying to finish up some pieces already started. but as i sat at the computer looking at this blank 'blogger' page...i just started this piece. it sorta kinda makes since but then again, it doesnt....but it came and wouldnt stop coming (get ya minds out the gutter!). its freestyle ROUGH DRAFT.



once again we are back here
once, it meant something
to be here
because being here
well,
it meant we were safe

and here,
is where we could climb the tallest trees
without fear of falling
because falling
only meant floating
floating would became flying
and who is afraid of flying
when flying.....is freedom

we are blind to color, here
conceal love in arms
used only for hugs
claim the same bloodline
so we are brothers and sisters

we would pass the day away
reclined on clouds
sipping on rainbows
eating slices of pie
cut from the bluest of skies
and throwing PEACE signs up at the sun
as we slowly floated by
'what up homie'

we would have round table conversation
with God
and ask crazy questions like,
'God, can you give me super powers?'
or
'Could you make my siblings vanish,
not like forever, but like right before Christmas?'
or
'Can you send my Grandmother back for one night
so she could rock me to sleep
like she used to?'

then there were times
we laughed at how the stars
blushed so bright they twinkled
upon hearing our confessions
or
we would recieve nightly advice in hushed tones
from the moon
as we swam in the deep pool of her ambiance
she was strong, her pool was relaxing

we would write poetry on the wind
just to see the words come alive
before our eyes
then watch as the wind carried away
not just our words
but the pain that caused their concepetion
to some unknown place
so we could have peace of mind

here
is where we wanted to be
but here, is a place for a child
and were no longer a children
so, its back to face the imperfections
of adulthood
where we walk conjoined with our fears
and are romanced by insanity
wishing we could be children again

But here is still here
when we need that moment to hide
be without fear
to once more be a child
and dream
eghilliard,2006bunny's boy publishingall rights reserved