Bloody Angels a poem. Copyright Pete Stokien September Twelve, 2014 The most amazing people see the world through different eyes. They see the deep pain, they see the injustice, the see the ignorance. They also see the possibilities, they see the the hope they could give if someone would just listen. They see the good they could do if they were not so oppressed. In every thought, every word, every action and every choice they wish with all of their soul to change something, anything at all. Every song, every Im here for you if you need someone to help you through every last dollar thats shared with someone else. Every bully they smash to the ground. Every homeless man the pay the dignity of hello of these things and one million more. They do alone. They are truly alone inside their minds. If you know this person please understand this one fact... you have no clue how blessed you are and how tortured they are. Every painting they create for you to admire, every slave they set free, every discovery of science they make, every joke that they tell. Every poem they write. All of these things and TEN million more. They only are one millionth of what they have to share. They give these things to the world because they dont feel they have enough to even be noticed. They share with you to mask the pain. These souls are immortal. They live alongside God, but here with us. God gave them to us. And we are blind. We try to make them fit in our conforms of what we can understand. This is not our right. We should see that in our own way we could attain to where they have arrived. We stand on their necks and feel taller when we stand on their backs trying to make them feel small so we can feel big. I know some of these special angels very well. They are deeper wells that anyone knows. They are angels crying in the rain. They are beaten down and depressed. They are starting to belive they things you have said and their lights are growing dim in this dark place you want them to accept. You want them to stop making you feel selfish and idiotic. They are closer to extinction than you bother to notice while you drink your Starbucks and tell them to fit in. I know some of them but even I know that I have no idea what they could become if you dont smother them just to pacify you own lack of concern for the likes of a woman who lost her family and is sleeping under a bridge. You must turn your head because if you dont you have to admit you didnt care long before her life fell apart. Afterall, are you your brothers keeper? Should not each one carry his own load. Please just stop. Dont bother to re convince yourself. Scientists told you that you only use one tenth of your brain and with that waste you pay even less attention to your heart. I know some of these special angels and I dont mean Van Gogh, Williams, Lincoln & Nash. I walk with them daily. I too feel their agony. I taste their dispair. I see their arms and I scarred mine as well. As I write this and as you read it I recognize the seed of these icons of hope and goodness within so many of you. It is not the seed but it is the soil. It is not the flame but the oil. You have anointed angels in your midst. But as their King said to you so plainly and yet you do not see the simple truth. To feed the least of My brothers is to honor Me. So go ahead and pad your coffers and congratulate yourself for you thoughts and prayers. In the meantime those of us who are of like mind will try to make camp with these lazy, nonconforming, rebellious misfits who keep blessing you and each other with whatever scraps that fall from the tablecloth. We will try to protect the next generation of our kind and strengthen them not to give up. You may not notice when theyre gone but we would mourn them for eternity and infinity with an ostrich on top! RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW. THESE ANGELS ARE WEEPING. THEY ARE STARVING AND SO ARE THOSE THAT THEY LOVE. I am sitting next to one right now who is trying to find a reason why, I am missing one that has stopped believing, I was on the phone with one who doesnt know what he is going to eat tomorrow. Yes, I said tomorrow, how does that Starbucks taste now? I refuse to sell out. I am raging against the machine. The meat grinder that feeds on their flesh but is never satisfied with the blood of special angels. Every person reading this knows who they are. if they are the feeders or those sacrificed on the alter of general knowledge while others sit in empty prayer meetings staring and half empty bottles of coins wishing they were water. Dedicated to my most special angels. Julian Stokien, Mia Stokien
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 16:49:29 +0000
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