Articles | General

III: I Care, Ma.


This is a gift and early present to my mother. I am a veteran of a war I did not understand when I signed up. Upon the realizations of hurt and senselessness as to why we were there, I left and bare no regret. I sold my body for the promise of money, but never my soul as that was never mine to give.

Poor and broken hearted,
Over the lip I walked,
Upon twisted tongue
Unraveled over wicked teeth.
To fall through the throat;
Only to land
In the belly of the Beast.

There, where nothing seen
Was worth having been,
Save culture and scenery
And to sate others’ greed.
That is why a grunt
Is what our country
Says it needs.

Were it for another
And not one’s wallet
To please;
I’d have laid down my life
To protect and serve
The Moon and family.

You see,
Some people would say
I deserted my country,
But I would say
My country left me
Soon after 1773.

I thank God
To have never
Unbound a soul
From it’s body
Costing a heavily
Weighed toll.

So I sing of truth
And wander about
As I lose this,
The Belly of Buddha;
While the rest of you,
I beg,
Catch up to me
Around the curve.

My hands are free
And I, nothing more
Special than you;
Nor magic
As you’ll find
There are only arms
Within these sleeves.

Through art,
An idealist
And through text,
A realist.
Thanks to you, Ma,
I’m what others call
“A Surrealist.”

About James Daedalus

I write. I paint. I find peace.

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