Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

The Opalescent Man

His eyes roll in the back of his head,
Showing me the opalescent whites of his eyes.
He mocks me and I yearn to hold him, hit him,
Get him to understand all that is ME!
Opalescent.
His skin is the color of the opal gem;
It glitters, it gleams, it yearns to be touched.
I sat next to him and said nothing,
Longing to brush my hand upon his smooth skin,
His pure skin untainted by hate of any kind.
He's a joking character if I ever saw one,
He desires only the sweetest love and attention,
But if I could give that to him,
I'd have done it already.
He teases me,
Pokes me and explains his lessons in life,
He's a year older than I and already
He's wiser than anyone I've ever known.
Even though he speaks in a jokingly manner,
I know that he is listing his truths,
His beliefs, his mannerisms.
I know that I could never be anything other
Than his Indian friend but
Perhaps someday,
I can touch his opalescent being,
And be exalted to another realm;
His realm of surrealism.

March 31, 2004
Suge




Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The Opalescent Man

377,827 Poems Read

Sponsors