First Child

First Child 

Tonight I am feeling alittle mis treated, beyond this greaving distaste in my mouth
there is an empty pit growing, seeding like amputations of lesser known minds
that grow quietly like open casket veiwings and as i accept my fate
the rythmic expectations that were once singing like melodic choirs of angelic voices
drown out the pain caused by years of alcoholic vices

And I know in the timid explanation of two hands that time has shown
we have not been introduced to an original happiness like this before
all has been structured by the artifical drooling of ugliness
and chemicals just look like fuzzy faces that I drink away

Plain sight is no more a beautiful image if all I see is ugly!

Colorblind imagery is not good if you are wanting to paint the world!

And by the timing that has flourished through these grape vines for bones that blossem sweet nectar
for blood and sweet somthings from whispers We remember that the second hand of vertical descent towards
the 6 foot imagination hustling deeply nested liked baby birds before the moment of jumping is manicly 
inspired by instinct, so we try to look forward with out using the hanging rope that our reasons provide us

We dont want to kill imagination for more reality!

because reality is a peice of the problem

Because there is a kinder story than rape

Becuase there is a map inside our palms that grow to our hearts and the beats per minute show as footsteps
deaply nestled inside the sprockets of our machine bodies, needing more electrical current hugs and kisses 
to inspire the fire with in our time capsule memories.

because we , like any other animal need love, this compassion of written sentences acted out like paychecks
that cause smiles from a hard days work, when left splintered by the aching mind of other individuals that 
think they work harder than you, by the back breaking endevours that swallow you like 5 zoloft pills
in the middle of a long 3 am wake up call, beneath the endless script of never forgetting with what you are stuck
with, clarifying the balance of compassion well given by driving the pen further down the road , to escape the near
ending fear and we scream like leaporsy burns!

WE will not give up!
We will stand in this unit like needle pins in the skin for soft measure
Untill we gather more corouge to push back even the most evil of ignorance
untill it surrenders with white flags and buckled knees
untill the phrase "i will try" turns into "it is done"
untill the moon finally gets its wish to be respected as much as the sun
untill My wife gets her happiness back
until my brother finds that he is perfect how he is
untill my father realizes he did a great job in raising his son
untill my mother finds out that she has inspired me to do my best

And we stand like abrupting volcanoes, spewing out the magic that covers all like silk blankets for resting

We grow unto fully fledged spiret cadavaers that breathe the same as love gives off
and forge ahead the timing of exhausted minutes, but the smile of the observant never questions our questions
becuase some where out there, there is a man by the name of Adam, who knows not the awnsers, but he will sure as hell
try to find where his beginnings will end.

And as he stands amongst a crowd of famliar faces and strangers, once again holding his heart out on his sleeves,
tucking away at nothing that scabs or heals, he hopes to find dignity, in the fields that lay before him, planted like
seeds from the words of other poets, just like him.

Written By Adam Guerra
Posted on 08/12/12