Ghosts

Do you ever sift through the bullshit
that falls from the lips of street people
we pass on streets of our lives
so that one day we can find some truth?

In one day in the life of a fool, or maybe
once in a month, wouldn’t enough of something
right come out of his or her mouth as they
blew funky smoke from found cigs on the street?

Aren’t there jewels hidden in garbage all over?
Treasure everywhere waiting to be found by those
willing to crawl under or through fetid dreams
for one diamond, one flower, the lotus in the mud…

In memory I see you fallen brothers and sisters
from so long ago in my childhood in concrete and
asphalt visions. I left, you stayed, went to war
over there and at some far away place called home

Your ghosts I see and hear in drunk, or high,
slovenly voices walking past me, hollow people
who carry your spirits, I need you to leave me
alone, just like I wanted you to when we were young

The only truth you taught me was to learn not to hate,
not to fight, not to ever look down on anyone else.
You taught me to treasure the small, the weak, the hated,
for they carried love and blessings, and gifted souls.

So for that, thank you, but banish all the visions of stark
poverty and red-lined streets and greedy men and their
fancy clothes, they’ve gutted my dreams, spilling me out like
wasted meat and mud thrown up against life’s walls.

 

 

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