The opposite of black is not always white
sometimes it could be red or yellow
maybe even obscure muave
What I see is not always in focus
What I feel maybe neither hot or cold
Maybe lost maybe found
possible even upside down
Your truth is not always mine
even hickory mixed with pine
Is the dirt across the border not clean
could my daughter be sweet and not mean
your house is bigger but not to be scene
is my word the same as yours
last night I had enought of your soup de jour
made from seaweed close to the moors
Sometimes it is the opposite of night
like going to war is no pretty sight
my wife has the tendancy to make me up tight
I have learned to shut up walk from a fight
My politics leans very far from the right
Smokin' with my brothers makes me walk into the light
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I enjoyed reading your poems.
Post a Comment