Thursday, October 9, 2008

DO YOU SEE THE SIGNS (POEM)

Do you want to watch it all fall apart?
Every time I walk, I watch, I look, I notice, I observe.
I read the signs.

And the signs are pointing in the wrong direction.
The signs are not naming the streets or leading me to the highway,
The signs are naming names.
Tombstones to mark the dead of children not even born.
And I don't mean abortion, I mean what is to come.

The signs are telling me to turn back around.
The signs are telling me to to research my past.
The signs are telling me to learn from my mistakes.
The signs are asking me questions:
Do you want to watch it all fall apart?
Do you have any control? Is there anything you can do?

Time is not a nice person, I know because the signs said it.
Time can be generous, but ultimately, time is indifferent.
Time does not give two damns or a fuck.
So what will you do? What will we do . .?

So I'm in the middle of the street, talking to the signs, and people are looking at me, pointing and laughing, like, "This motherfucker's crazy."
But do they not see the signs? Do you not see the signs?

If there is one thing in this world that you can depend on and you can best your last dollar on, it's the ignorance of the American people.
But still I have faith, and still I read the signs.
And they are indeed there. Some of us are lost and will not find our way, no matter what the signs say.
Some of us do not see the signs because we are too busy shopping.
Some of us do not see the signs because we can't help but stop and look at the accidents, and stare.
We are in a daze, we are amazed by the world's displays.

Some of us do not see the signs because we are giving spare change to the homeless.
We are getting gas.
We are volunteering for duty.
And we are watching television.
We are driving around in circles on spinners, and we are working 8-6.
We are on our way to the club, we are high, we are drunk, and we are sober.
And we do not see the signs.

We are listening to a moron babble, we are listening to tongues that lie.
We give them and ear, we give them a hand, we give them both eyes.
So we cannot see the signs.
Slow down, children playing in these streets and they cannot read the signs, they are only children.

Stop, . . . stop!

I fear there is no u-turn, and that this road dead-ends.
Because we cannot read the signs.
Do you not see the signs? We must read the signs.
And we must turn around.
We must turn around.
We gotta turn this shit around.
And we gotta read the signs.
. . we must read the signs . . .
. . we gotta read the signs . . .
. . we gotta turn this shit around . . .

We got to read the signs.

(TO HEAR THE ACTUAL POEM CLICK HERE)

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