Collateral Damage Station

I’m on the outside
bright color
peacock spreading
I own my street,
a path forced discreet
by tainted company

I’m on the inside
where children weep
and we speak
this language of
naivety, conversations brief

know what it’s like
to be the weird one
so, pretty stays silent

She’ll only be assumed

Life consumes her
leather bound pages
to be passed onto sons
there are chosen ones
holding secrets governmental

they’re a temperamental two

and twisted rhymes might
leave you confused
you can absorb
if you choose too

watch the eyes
they never lie
ignore the lips
stay quiet

all ain’t what you see
what you created it to be

sweet angel baby with
magic throwing stars
hidden inside her scars

wars make me stronger
throw the boomerang farther
each time I finish
I gain an ounce of strength
and release more weight

watch their eyes
they never lie
true seekers are
skilled for the dive

gearing up there’s
’bout to be a battle
tuning instruments
test my snake rattle

watch my eyes
I refuse to lie
you created a warrior
who’s unable to die

I am on the outside
smiles and bright
on the inside
ensues a vigorous fight

and who can be the strongest
hold out the longest
when in the end
they’ll find out
this story’s just pretend

an illusionary fable
it’s time to turn the tables
dig up graves and
invade the caves

tell the world a parable
of how the evil ones fell
it’s a serious situation
at collateral damage station

but I got a cleanup crew
what about you?®

The Masks We Wear

Are we not beautiful?
Even beneath our masks,
Gifting our hearts and hiding the fear?
Are we not vulnerable and capable?


 Do you see they bring smiles
to hide the pain?


and yet we cry
like rivers
swirling us
to the deep blue sea
as we weep


Never cry more tears than you could hold in your hands. When all the world’s airbrushed it’s a sacred bond of trust.

Sometime I see right through the scenery. The first place that’s on my mind, the last place I find each time. Sometimes I swim beyond scenery. Sea moves as mercury to break its perfect skin, to dare to die from within.

Sometimes I see much more than’s good for me. The first thing that’s on my mind the last place I look each time. Sometimes I slip inside imagery, and the last thing that’s on my mind’s the first thing I’ll do each time.

Stars racing to burn out. A storm beginning to break, trees standing black against the sky. This was inevitable.

Sometimes we can see beyond our history the last place you hope to find, the one that’s been there all the time.”

Beth Orton