Thursday, July 20, 2017

Poetry Series, Deep Blue River

Lives of Precious Children 
by Deep Blue River

I have seen it happen, too often. 
Lives of precious children--shattered.
(by bullies) 
      (by bullets)
lives of moms and dads 
      (turned upside down) 

Growing up we all want pretty much the same things: Love, acceptance, companionship, trust, a place to call home; to just be free to be ourselves. 

No one fits your square peg 
now come on--not really. 
Who is this ace in the hole
The hole in one 
Picture perfect 
Some American story? 

Not one (of us) 

We all fall short of some perceived perfection... 
whose measuring stick is this anyway? 
When I know I was created in God's own image. 

And that art,
ain't no junk. 

But then why, do we need to teach our children to hate differences? 
I feel my difference everyday. 

I go through life pretty much unaffected now; it wasn't always that way. 
(Things about me that I couldn't tell anyone)
(Things about me that I had to keep silent--when I was young)
I am surprised I survived.

And now it just makes me ache every time I see a child who has been turned into a bully. 
Who made him a monster? That he would bully another child? 
When will this world change its heart? 
When will relief come for the different little ones? 
Because in reality that's every one (of us). 

We are all different in our beautiful ways.
We are all beautiful in our different ways. 
However you want to say it. 
We are all born of love and born to be loved. 

Does it matter how I wear my hair
what car I drive
if I am gay or Trans? 
Does it matter if I am short or I am tall 
or If I am as bi as I am? 

Is it worth a child taking their life?
A precious child. 
God given child. 
Beautiful child. 

What are your motives in the name
Of God to torture innocent children 
With your foul remarks? 

Until their self esteem is battered 
into bloody oblivion. 
You leave them on the ground 
with a kick

Because of their sexual orientation or identity? 
Who made you men into Gods 
that you would take your power 
and rub it in a child's face? 
and teach your own kids to do the same. 

The fact is you feel powerless 
in your helpless 
inability to feel fit for the job of life 
you suck the life out of someone else. 

A child. 

Now just stop it. If no one else is going
To tell you. I will. 

This is not a poem. It's a rant. 
And I am done now. 
Be well. 


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