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You
You make me laugh
The way you smile with your critical eyes
And point with your finger of wisdom
In the direction of mecca?
Or Ambrosia
Or some other foreign God
So you bending your rod
Bow
Down
At the high temple of pure wisdom
You who understand
'nothing'
About being human
Distracted by dead writers
And
These broken lines
Keep you in detention
Held back in school
While the world goes racing by
Full of hot blood and fury
And the passion of being alive
[this is just a commentary]
yvette m smith may 09
poem
by
Yvette Smith
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