Funhouse Mirrors in the Street

 Funhouse Mirrors in the Street

 

Something material

might

Take hold of my interest

 

But like all things ephemeral

It won't last

 

I'm So

Sick and tired

Of giving you my time to you

All you care about:

 

"What can I get out of him today?

Will it be better than yesterday?

 

How can I give him my least

In return

He'll give me his most?"

 

Its hard

Living this reality

It

Being proof of another universe's theory.

 

Smart enough to know

Better than that

 

Experienced enough to

Have been down the wrong road a few

 

Still scratching my head

Still looking

 

What's wrong for me

Its also

Wrong to you

 

Confusion sets in

 

What works

What seems right for me

Is totally Wrong

For you

 

Maybe

Ill stop looking at you.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2011

Technorati Tags: right,wrong,life,choices,self,different,cfbrown.com

The War Is Over

Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.

Suffering
Struggle
Strife

They are all you know.
They have been your bed.
They were the nourishment that sprang from hate’s bosom

They were taught to you by force
They have worked for you out of necessity that later became choice
Therefore,
everyone must follow to the same.

Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.

You learn the secret your teacher never told.

It did not have to be.

The path you chose was revealed.

Well traveled
Well worn
Well known

Only later
at the end of it all
Was it understood

The hardest
The roughest

At the cliff you
Loudly proclaim your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity

©Christopher F. Brown

Technorati Tags: pain,suffering,struggle,strife,lies,life

Waiting for an Old Soul

This place.

Nothing is old.

If there were
it would stick out like a chick from its shell.

This place.

It has a soul
It has a spirit
But it does not speak.

It can not speak
it does not have a voice yet.
It has no story to tell.

This place.

No spirits dwell here.
No great joy,
No humbling sorrow.

These walls have never vibrated from passion filled nights
echoed from early morning fights.
The very ground itself would tear away that which is too weak.

This place.

Nothing is old.

If anything was you would have to listen.
You would have no choice but to hear.
It would scream so softly only your soul could perceive.

This place.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Technorati Tags: newness,life,new,old soul