Monday, July 16, 2018

Ken Trimble #35 What a wonderful world

There was so much beauty
walking through the redwoods
with the one you love.

And then there's the beauty
of the streets; that jazz
of street kitchens who fart
and stink.

The trans in their fishnets
The junkies shooting up
while waiting in line
The old man who talks
about his imaginary
The ex monk come
alcoholic who talks in
Latin  while
having his soup.

This is the beauty
of the streets of sorrow,
sadness, and violence
where desperate mystics
come and go.

Then you turn on the tv
and while your eating your
meal and drinking your
you see a news report
from Yemen
and the children
whose bones are on
the outside
instead of the inside
and their little faces
look ready to burst,
like watermelons;
imagine that pia mater
those parents of bloody brain
all over your nice shirt
and still you have time for

It's all so wonderful
like that Louis Armstrong

And you know
watching those
poor, starving, dying
kids, I felt
and yet,
I continued my meal
and drank my

I'm just like
everyone else,
the thing is,
you think,
your different.


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