On the Face of Today

I was born in this and can’t pretend this
life hasn’t had me feeling strife since
the start of this back in 19 seventy-shit
you wanted it, you asked, and you got it
when its yours its never what you wanted
but you take what you can & you flaunt it
just like back in school some hid some taunted
and we hate where we come from still haunted
married to this shit too late for annulment
so I bring thee the newest installment
death by death its societal inbalment
cradle to casket we all get our ass kicked
send me up the river in a wicker basket
come back swinging and lead’em to freedom
death and tragedy none of us can cheat ‘em
so eat em up and spit em up out loud
outcast in the crowd outlast the proud
get up and get down just trying to make a sound
that might still be heard or felt from the ground
when they lay me down, maybe its profound
maybe im crazy or lazy or just easy to astound
or maybe it’ll change the world when read aloud?
so it was written & im spittin on the face of today
walk this way, speak, spell, say, pay to play
dealt this hand i’ll stay till the day im called away

~wwmfb

Projection

Just another white-trash
Pseudo-intellectual
Read me like I’m textual
Touch me like I’m sexual
But can I be either to you?
Arrange me in a canopy of fantasy
Like the pin-ups in a young boy’s room
I assume societal positions in your mind’s eye
Fulfilling mother’s dreams for you
Will you leave me when you wake up?
Or will you follow through?
I’m not the cream of young girl’s dreams
… but maybe I will do?

~wwb

With You

We do not belong to this world,
But I belong with you.
Our love is like the petals rising upward,
for the world to view.

We do not belong to this world,
This puddle of blue and green.
The heart of love’s yellow hue reflects the sun,
In this world obscene.

We do not belong to this world,
But we need be here now.
To bring color to the loveless and broken,
And maybe show them how:

They do not belong to this world
This pond that seems forsaken;
And love thrives in the stagnate waters,
Of every picture God has painted.

~wwb

Fragments

integration or disintegration
as the rains beat at our back
no room for quiet hesitation
hemming us in giving us zen
as we describe our longing
for some far off destination
our reservations, deviations
if we give into resignations
the night lays her body down
with smoke and cold libations
longing for the hour when
we need no false presentation
honesty has made us then
her crowning station
all we ever wanted when
we were alone no explanation

~wwb