Heaven's flame rose over the

silhouette of the house next door.

Something was set in motion...

I heard three men murdered,

while Tiny sprung a nosebleed in his new electric chair.

A starving child got fifteen seconds to prove he's worth fifty cents a day.

As the sun set in Australia, my flower began to open.

Scorched, the morning dew flew up above my head.

Three hundred and fifty rigid souls ago,

a hole was dug halfway around the world,

A pusher slid into his sweater & Abercrombie cargos,

and went to school.

I think Big Brother has figured out my madness.

I lift my anarchic head

to see the flower open wide.

The sun propels another hour of life.

It's about 3 p.m.

A drunk just ran down a baby and her mother,

I ate a sandwich,

my best friend was raped by her date.

Slowly my flower begins to close.

Dismissed from the ultraviolet spumes of warmth,

we both begin to close our hearts.

The genocide has begun again,

and my little brother cuts his finger.

The warm, virgin blood rises from his skin...

I turn my back.

Before the first drop hits the ground,

I see that I am alone

with my flower shut tight.

Now that it's dark,

I begin to cry.

I still sit in the same spot,

and tomorrow the sun will rise again.

And I have hope.

Me and my flower have hope.

7-9-99

Carl Brown

Revised by Br. Thomas Murphy O. Carm.

Back to Index

Comments