Brodey Morton 2015 - 17
There is another sky,
Before the streets begin,
There is another sunshine,
Between the woods and frozen lake.
Here is a brighter garden,
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow.
To liberate us into life,
Yet it is only love.
Though it be darkness there,
We dare be brave,
For it is love the lives crave
The Abstract I
So look to the sky, think about all the souls that fly by.
Think about why the hell do we lie?
About the time we wasted forming ties,
While the government sit there and spy,
Totally ignoring the people’s outcry.
Now who am I?
Am I the figment of imagination in the brain of a Fruit fly?
What does this imply?
Am I that one good guy that didn’t partake in that drive-by?
Or the one that denies the existence of the third eye?
Mate, who am I?
Why do I abide by but not defy or dignify the wings of a Butterfly?
And how they occupy then multiply eventually killing the sky?
Who am I?
But must I rectify, misapply or modify the lullaby I ask myself every night?
What Am I?
Should I stand by and hold the tears from leaving my eye?
And think about why they must crucify the people that try to justify those that purify the diversified people that don’t turn a blind eye to the world’s water supply?
For the last time, I can’t lie.
Who am I?