Here’s a child that before he could write before he was talking
before he could crawl he was walking
his life was made of love and heart aches
and the time he spent in his room alone with his notebooks and cassette tapes
people called him weird as he plotted out his schemes
and told people the future of his life through his dreams.
because sense to him was never common
while he spoke to plants and hung with drug dealing shamans
he was deaf to their comments and only kept on with movement
as held the planets together to hear its improvement.
And he wrote about the way things began
and spoke about love, life and his master plan
no one ever stayed around long enough to believe him
he was the opposite of odd, only the good side of even.
so he grew over time with all four seasons
smoked a pack a day, and lived his life his way
when he used to be on the respirator barley breathing
And he wrote more and more lamenting of what never came
wondering if God had lied to him or if it was in his brain.
as he became more in tune. Others began to question
they decided he was crazy and they would teach him a lesson
But he wrote.
as he came into this world with an umbilical cord around his throat
and then he wrote
as the gun ignited and left him metal and some smoke
but then he wrote
is this the way I was supposed to go?
he wrote more not caring if he’d ever know
He spent his time surround by thieves and liars
because inside of all of them he saw the fire
but he stayed alone
because they couldn’t understand the journey was on his own.
he grew up with his imagination, and a wagon
along the banks of the river with his only friend that was a pen dragon
he grew up around wanna be gangsters and fakes
but he loved crazy people, writing with spiders and snakes.
all he ever wanted in this life was a girl, and pen and a place to skate
but many found him odd but in the end gave him a break
as he wrote his life to the sound of a break.
But he wrote.
the life that he questioned with no answers
he wrote about the universe and the place that matters
inside his soul was gold, but his mind was glass that shattered
people were always fake to him, said bad things behind him but in front they flattered
so he wrote about his worries and the things he never got.
but his own friend were mean to him and told him to stop
they said to him ” be normal and get a life change”
but he never listened to any of them and he stayed the same
as the boy grew into a man he learned that life was lame
or at least it was his out look until he met a dame.
she was odd too and even uneven but in the end still the same
so they wrote about things they had seen
and realized they met each other in a dream.
but people couldn’t stand to understand and labeled them as weird
and instead of loved by their friends they became feared.
So they wrote
about life and the misunderstandings
and in end the end the ended on a good standing
but people wouldn’t be happy until they were crushed
so in the end they wrote until they were plucked
by laboratories, doctors and physicians.
questioning their knowledge and their positions
staring at a knife as they hacked into their brains with incisions
trying to understand their 3rd eyes and how they had their visions
instead they killed them and led them to prison.
but they wrote of a day they would come back and seek what was written.
they’ve been gone now but the their pen dragon still stays.
and show of their knowledge and how they lived their way
and yet many of their former friends will say
you can hear them scribbling in their notebooks this very day.
- Guillermo Welsh
