I see the youth,
playing dress-up to put on a show,
to say, "Watch me conquer the world
in an eight minute speech and then,
Judges of the World,
maybe you'll love me.
Maybe I'll be human.
Maybe I'll have worth because my skirt flows to my knees and
I can communicate your Ideals.
Maybe my parents will care, then.
Maybe you'll see through my make-up
or my father's antique suit.
Maybe you'll see through to my soul and
love me for who I am."
But I never loved you for your mascara, Children,
nor did I love you for your words.
Usually you make me laugh,
all you children parading around as
grown-up monsters,
playing make-believe,
as if the omniscientknowitalllawyerwhoworshipscostbenefitanalyses
was a human who loves,
who feels,
who longs to ride the winds of heaven
and taste romance's heartache...
like you do,
nor did I love you for your words.
Usually you make me laugh,
all you children parading around as
grown-up monsters,
playing make-believe,
as if the omniscientknowitalllawyerwhoworshipscostbenefitanalyses
was a human who loves,
who feels,
who longs to ride the winds of heaven
and taste romance's heartache...
like you do,
you, who cries your soul into your hands at night,
when the game has ended and parents sleep,
who is anorexic or sexual or depressed
or raped or lonely or angry or
merely in need of love because
the world has sodomized you and sometimes,
when you feel as if some pills would help,
sometimes you wish that God was dead.
But He is not and the night will only grow stronger,
so:
when the game has ended and parents sleep,
who is anorexic or sexual or depressed
or raped or lonely or angry or
merely in need of love because
the world has sodomized you and sometimes,
when you feel as if some pills would help,
sometimes you wish that God was dead.
But He is not and the night will only grow stronger,
so:
Children,
I'd rather you be a slut
who falls to her knees for grace,
than the superficial lovechild
of the superficial leeches.
I'd rather you be a slut
who falls to her knees for grace,
than the superficial lovechild
of the superficial leeches.
I'd rather you taste the death of love now,
to know who lied through their fearful teeth,
than later when you realize what's fantasy
when you're forever chained to reality.
to know who lied through their fearful teeth,
than later when you realize what's fantasy
when you're forever chained to reality.
I'd rather you spread your wings to fly, ...and fall,
than clip them to please the vultures.
than clip them to please the vultures.
I'd rather you'd mature
so these words would not stir your passions.
so these words would not stir your passions.
I'd rather that the clamours of the masses would please you less
than the whispers of God.
than the whispers of God.
Love, Children--
Love is curious.
Some say it is a many-splended thing,
like oxygen,
or strawberry shortcake on a warm summer day.
But it has little to say on a cost-benefit scale,
nor does it move the economy
Some say it is a many-splended thing,
like oxygen,
or strawberry shortcake on a warm summer day.
But it has little to say on a cost-benefit scale,
nor does it move the economy
yet it moves your heart
for your heart thirsts for Anyone,
a someone who cares to know you're hurt.
for your heart thirsts for Anyone,
a someone who cares to know you're hurt.
Let me say, therefore,
that I care little for your dress-up and make-believe,
that speeches will end and
beauty follows the path of tears--
down your cheek as life slits your wrists.
that I care little for your dress-up and make-believe,
that speeches will end and
beauty follows the path of tears--
down your cheek as life slits your wrists.
Children, I love you.
Yet I love you beyond the games,
beyond rules, and
beyond communication.
Yet I love you beyond the games,
beyond rules, and
beyond communication.
I love you for your very selves,
in the inner depths of friendship,
where parents cannot reach it or harm it,
and love will never die.
in the inner depths of friendship,
where parents cannot reach it or harm it,
and love will never die.