Long Lines by Darryl Price

Long Lines

are moving past me again. I’ve been invited to
join. I’ve declined for most of my life. Isn’t
life a long line enough for most of us?

We end up in the same place anyway. Not
to be morbid. As far as I can see
we’ve only run out of a few things like
dodos, and there are plenty of folks still running
around who might qualify.Just saying. It is what

it is. We are a destructive bunch. We’ll consume
just about anything.We’re goats on two legs. Look
what we’ve done to the goats who have ever
bothered to question such actions. That’s right. We chew
them up and spit them out. Evil comes. It

breaks into the most beautiful downstairs windows you’ve ever
seen and begins chewing right through the lives of
those whose lights bring the place its joy.And
then people get in their cars and go to
the grocerystore and squeeze the melons and act like

they have a right to not get involved. But
we are involved. Every kid born involves us the
moment they breathe air, the moment they smile or
cry. It goes on and so must we. But
let us be still and silent in remembrance of

those who took the brutal blows so that we
might continue to fight for better dreams,for more
careful dreamers,a kinder night for all of us.

.

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4 Comments

Filed under Darryl Price

4 responses to “Long Lines by Darryl Price

  1. I like the u upbeat message at the end of an otherwise seemingly down piece. Nicely written!

    • Darryl P.

      tHANKS. The poem is supposed to show the meaning. I know people would rather I be flip or just juggle the oranges as beautifully as possible. They don’t want to be bothered. I get it. I live in the world too. It’s just that sometimes the news makes me so sad for us. We kill each other for pleasure. And there is no safety that can’t be breached by someone with evil enough intent. Why? Why is this so? It hurts to even think about all the reasons. So I GAVE THIS POEM TO THE UNIVERSE,knowing full well the reception it would receive. I know the kind of poet the world wants–just go look at the books. It ain’t me ,Babe,as Bob Dylan puts it. Still I’ve got to sing of the sorrows as much as the pleasure to be in balance with the gifts of poetry. To me that’s fair exchange.Thank you for noticing my yes to us. All of us. Let us begin the healing journey.

  2. Stacy

    “Evil comes. It

    breaks into the most beautiful downstairs windows you’ve ever
    seen”

    heartbreakingly beautiful.
    well said.

  3. Pingback: Week #23 – long lines « 52|250 A Year of Flash

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