paradox

Paradox

Maybe i just try too hard to find the right words.

The more i struggle to define an emotion
the less it shines through to the page.
When i write of my sense of devotion
it somehow reads as a rant of rage.
Sadness sounds like joy.
Love comes through as pain.
Everytime i try to describe a Summer day
i end up standing in the rain.

My world loses demetion
when i ask you to come out and play
and i understand that the words i say
make you believe i want you to go away.
Please stay.

Most of this life i've been misunderstood
and i would gladly change that, if only i could.
but the process has gone to far to stop it now.
That's something that something larger than me won't allow.

My love of life moves like a funeral procession
and my cries of innocence sound like a confession.
My truth is a lie and my lies ring true.
I have nothing in common with someone
as perfect as you.

We are paradox, rabbit chases the fox,
i will never see freedom, except from a pine box
and you cannot see me through the tinted glass
of your limosine.

Twice today and three times tommorow
i will have unknowingly relayed my goodwill as sorrow.
I will smile with tears in my eyes
and then laugh through another scream
from behind my disguise.

Dark storms of the heart blow in on a gentle breeze
and when i try to explain what it's like to burn in my hell,
first i shiver then i shake and i freeze.
when i appear to be crying i'm happy
and my sigh is content,
When i wake up tomorrow,
i'll wonder where my money went.

Could it possibly be that you and me
are not so different, flip sides of a coin.
Even though i would probably carry a protest sign
in front of any club you might join.

You always know just what to say
and even when you don't,
you remember it that way.
We've both been riding the same train
in a different direction.
We even shared the looking glass for a while,
searching for another's reflection.

i tried to tell you how much i love you,
but we know how that story goes.
I said something wrong, now you're gone
and lonliness grows.

Maybe the next time our circles intersect
we will have learned each other's language
and concepts of respect.
Then we may stay long enough
to see the whole show.

TOGETHER STRONG!

TOGETHER YOUNG!

TOGETHER UNTIL THE LAST SONG IS SUNG!

a poem by Donald Wilfong