WIDELINE THE EDUCATOR

I first saw you in a lively colorful trench, It's where we met with our fists so clenched, you sat so sincere mellow, and death; away from society's decayed mess, and fucked up stench, U spoke Kreyol, U spoke English, U spoke French, Alive was you! And you were alive, On “that great merry red and blue bench”

 

Our internal moon clocks stopped, our jaws dropped, U liked me alot, and it was the Wind's Birthday, The birthday of everything alive, and eternal which will never rot, that assaulted, exploded, pinned our body’s down like those damn Pittsburgh cops, Our spinal cords got shot; oh baby the block was hot!

 

Nevertheless, by ways of economics, political/earthquake sweat/defense, with a breath so fresh, U were US/Heaven Sent, with no physical bodily dents, A true polyglot in the flesh, with ur mind so miraculously unbent, our standoff was a holy event.

 

U are unique in ur face and physique, Ur an Ancient Ethiopian, Armenian, A Greek, Of your work ethic, of stoic Amazon, of Atlas it speaks, Ur a freak, Ur working, 7 days a week through the shine and through the sleet, never thinking about accepting defeat. 

 

When I grow too old to look at you and age, I'll always remember you in a thunderous way, Running through the holy Minotaur’s maze in a daze; It was you who was fighting for a familial living wage, screaming “My dear family you're saved!”, “I'm ur unconditional slave!” I’ll never misbehave! I'm increasing my resume! "Lord Nature I’m fully saved today!"

 

You put individualism in a confined cage, As you ran so proud holding wrenches in the name of SK, in the 20 mm gauge. U where the mechanic, an heir of Eleanor of Aquitaine in the feudal age. Oh babe, you were all the rage! , It was the road to the v6s of moksha, also a future durge sung around your old bodies grave.

 

When I grow too old to look at you and hear;  The young memories of us, will always kill my present fears; U were an afrocentric cashier, indulged in a native cart cavalier, an old gray mare, a mofo with liver wear; hard time tears, A smile will always come to my face my dear, at 65 oh! how You'll always be right here! Thank you, U really did care with thy adorable, intimidating stares.

 

Ur unique in ur face and physique , Ur an Ancient Ethiopian, Ur Ainu, Ur Greek, we should be close friends, but we always just stare and retreat, We raise each other's heartbeats, We make eachother weak, But hey sis, someday, somehow we will meet. Then thy beautiful arms and pretty feet, will forever make me feel complete. 

 

Even after that, my thoughts about you, will always be positive and discreet.

 

Thy head is an innocent forest filled with gorgeous trees, surrounded by a secret sacred-tethys sea, it’s a quick pocket universe, a clean water to quench my dangerous thirst, with everything created, that will ever be, in which one man can survive, and strive, all he'll ever need for endurance to keep alive. 

 

Thy Arms, are an assertive, castle, that teaches me wrong from right, Two Teutonic garrisons, that slaughter all evil by dawn's early light. With beauty itselfs own ferocious might, in the tense of our future nights. 

 

Thy Language and speech, is a pleasant beach, it’s a language isolate, a peculiar sumerian screech, with it you did preach, in 2 countries invaded, with the destruction around it so deep, I saw it in a dream, me and you are a team, by nature's own sunbeams. That’s why we are destined to meet and y onto me ur allowed to teach. 

 

Teach me sis! Teach me sis! Surround me with ur eternal moonshining bliss. With the neutrality/mentality of the eager eager swiss!

 

Thy Country is an organic being so honored and proud, an honest being that rebuilds it’s infrastructure outloud,  It screams “Freedom for all!” , “feudalism is not allowed!”. “We have procedural protections, that, we the heir/cells of this noble experiment endow!”. Thy Thermopylae mind that's profound, from the beginning of time, has always  been around.

 

Thy Eyes is the reason, I'm currently  staying alive. They are two mountains that thrill, two volcanic hills, with the red will, to slaughter all blue, and orange clowns, in town, too silently kill. 

 

How to be an adult you once said, But you don’t know, the family that lay dead, The poor lil yellow oval that bled, the at will demagogues around my fucked up head. I don’t know the social constructs you’ve yessingly read. 

 

I silently danced the innocent Horah some chromatic substance, towards you that was new, in to and out of ur beautiful eye’s view, But you said fuck that, “Fuck You!” , “I’m through!” “You indigenous Jew” “to the states; to the departments, I'll pursue!!” and towards me you outgrew, Your mind was brand new, and out of that Citadel-Red/Bench-Trench you flew! 

 

Then You retreated inside, It was too cold for life, your mind went for a diverse ride, You were no longer shy, Had nothing left to hide, You were exposed to the laymen of Pittsburgh, of The Rocks, of The West side!, Those motherfucker's P.A. pride, their layman Steel like minds. You send us and really did turn the tide.  

 

You don’t want to leave, ur country that’s beautiful, And I’ll always see why. Towards new cultures you always will dive. Never a tear of darkness, you will cry. 

 

Now you solemnly educate, you strive straight, your thoughts, hold its own symbolic golden weight, Your superficial level, is a passionate scribe, But your crazy mind, is bonafide. It’s a beautiful time. It’s great, U influence souls, who bring food to their family's plate, In your own intense gait, Ur Haitian influence unconsciously radiates. 

 

You don’t want to leave, your country that’s beautiful, And I’ll always see why. Give my ass a high five, You know what it takes to survive, and strive, Thy Thermopylae mind will always be alive, Thy brain is a steadfast someone that will never perish from the skies.! 

 

May Ur hardened inuksuk flesh, the leaping liberty bell, Ur radiating tundra’s own beautiful spell, always be open to Quetzals and Tinamous from heaven and hell, mandatory bananas, and a conscious Our Town play, that/who-Myself hauntingly yells.

 

And if towards the jumping, loving, natural, green, fateful, apparitions of “Yes!”, of ur beautiful, biography, and sacred electric trees, never give me it’s familial life keys, than you my stoic dear are to advanced and elderly for me. 

 

And if next week, you disappear without a trace, and we’re still distant and cold, and our physical-mental stoic actions never meet and run bold,  then it’ll be one life regret, that I’ll always carry in my brain, even when im six feet deep and old. 

 

- So spoke David Ras