#8 – It’s getting easier


You are the plaintiff and jury
I’m the executioner’s punishment
in all it’s fury
be merciful in judgment

In love with how the details sound
Remember who legislated our game
Violence and peace were options on ground
But anger poisoned our brain

This is gibberish
What the crickets tell me before I slumber
So I lay on my bed and think of sheep
Hopping, so I count their number

I’ve sat in contemplation for long enough
To know that there’s no lasting reward in acting tough
I’d rather be as soft as a new born
Who was never, from his mother torn

I gave a dime to a blind woman once
She held my hands and blessed me
I wept and thought, how much I act like a dunce
Taking with levity what a gift it is to see

The first time we kissed was in an elevator
Outside the library opposite the front door
The last time we fought was on the football field
I tackled, you punched, neither of our wounds healed

Somewhere in the good book there’s a passage
About all the riches in the world, not being worth a human soul
But I think some parishioners misplaced the message
Because they proselytize for the idols: silver and gold

I was once, for years, a slave
I was a captured though accidental stowaway
This is the story of how I was saved
And how I met the man who would be the king someday

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