I don’t doubt now that i have something to say, i just don’t think anyone is listening

I also don’t doubt that you have something to say, and I’m waiting

yeah, im not a singer

never have been, never will be

i don’t know why God didn’t give me that gift

it seems like it would’ve set me free

Yet I am left, here, like you

to watch memories pile up like bodies in

a genocide trench

only able to look with disbelief at what has happened here

no way to make it right

occassionally I look into the trench but mostly i stand shackled to it’s edge

looking out at the horizon where the reality of now isn’t a picture in my head

I am haunted by the permanance that seems to cradle my hurt

and evade me when wrapped around joy

im pissed off at everyone and all their theories

at this point don’t talk to me unless your God!

Cause Ive had enough of your world with a side of opinion and hold the truth

Bring me more than my blue jean day

then your activist way

I know about the toxins, the bleach

the whales that beach and all the dioxins

what about the racism and facism

the impingement on our civil liberties
the gassed freedom fighters giving up on peace treaties

WE the people make history coming together in the hundreds of thousands

liquidating our choice

for a cause-causing nausea and no veil to drop

the media insuring the mystery to farmer Bob and his rural mob

But all this is besides the point ……I’ve heard it

I know it and Im done

I’m done with the next level of I’m angry as hell and im hitting the streets for peace

im done arguing my political point to the single cell ameoba in suit and tie

over stir fry

unless it’s art its just parrot squack regurgitation

sitting on his own pile of shit

cause his cage hasn’t been changed in weeks or years

and when you don’t change the shit just gets higher and higher

maybe ill rise up on my own pile of shit and be able to touch the truth

or at least some of it

I could form my own delusional empire or, I could just set myself on fire

Think for yourself


when your world is small, you get tunnel vision and set yourself on a tiny little mission

through the grid, through the maze

thinking you’re customizing your days,

but your days are falling off the factory line

suckin up your time

And now, your’e suckin up mine

But hey, what do i know?

More importantly ,do I want to grow?

or stay frozen in time in my own sillouette

lookin at the future’s stampede of regret

listen, thats not gonna work out for me

so if we could just go ahead and open my heart that would be great

i ended this years ago poem with an angry rant that does not now suit me

i am much less angry and looking for God

between the gap of how you see me and who i really am

for whats important , if anything really is

for meaning outside of institutions and in between thoughts

where the synapse of silence carries all the answers and the absence of answers

where i feel most whole for mere moments at a time

where i try to return again and again and resist being carried away by normalcy or even brilliance

because even in the most fulfilled moment of my waking life i am not content

Yet more and more I am filled with flashes of gratitude so great that i weep

with love that even a foreign film could not capture

even though it has subtitles and is smart

If only we could have subtitles under our days

they would carry us away like night because cancled out and contradicted

our lives would take flight.

A Poem by Lisa Sikes