it's all about you

it’s all about you


It took 33 years for Jesus Christ to die,

he said, “before the rooster crows

you will disown me three times."

Peter drug in at night

to spot the Messiah in a Police Line,

when asked if he knew him

he said, “I don’t recognize any of these guys.”

The path to life

is pathed with sacrifice,

but social distancing 

doesn’t seem all that important

when you don’t have shoes on your feet,

like the food line on 3rd Street 

that stretches from the church 

around the corner to me,

After a hearing,

He came to earth

for a special business meeting,

a baby before your eyes

became a boy in the Temple questioning,

humble beginnings crafting carpentry

taught Him to tell a story

until He became a man 

the same age as me,

I look up and it’s as if the blue in the sky 

is a woman saving herself for midnight, 

a sub-par workout 

and not a cloud in sight,

after my third beer 

I ask my cat if he might 

have come to a conclusion that I can’t realize,

a Lagunitas IPA and a Blue Moon Belgian White,

top them off with a sugared Irish Breakfast Black Tea,

to define a complex 

as a state of mind

in which belief 

seems to be the answer in which we’re searching

is puzzling,

10 minutes 

until I should go to bed

to achieve 8 hours of sleep,

and I see delusion as the first step towards meaning,

alcohol has no affect on me

as the battle is caffeine vs. nicotine,

a pinch of tobacco 

and I’m reminded of my state of mind at seventeen,

I was once in San Diego

sitting in a child’s armchair 

wrapped in the print of Toy Story 3,

standing half-naked 

she put away laundry

while I was reading 

from her copy of the DSM 

attempting to diagnose 

both of our symptoms

in hopes of treating need

before it became feeling,

but when I told her 

where to categorize us 

she deleted me,

Christains want their Jesus safe

while sinners want him forgiving,

you say He’s our superhero for creating,

when it seems to me

He’s a role model for being,

it’s ok

for a woman to still have 

the fantasy of being rescued,

but am I wrong to have sympathy

for the angel who was only trying

to be like the one who gave him his strength?

The difference 

is in learning

that when I give away 

what it is I need,

in return I can have anything,

but the trick is 

when I begin to do this 

what I thought was a want

is no longer desiring,

apathy being replaced with belief,

whiskey for sweet tea,

and love for both you and me. 




Dan Parks