Poetry I

Déjà vu. Was it me or was it you?

It’s hard to decipher exactly who is who.

Strangers in white jackets might be coming for you,

and the sirens in the background keep changing their tune.

People are either all out to get you, or to desperately help.

Those are some thoughts swimming around like sea kelp.

And if only the sea was so easy to touch,

see, water makes me sea clearly, my love for the ocean is much.

A strange state of mind I’m in,

unsure of who and what is real.

So I create an extra terrestrial battle ground-

a kind of inner stricken deal.

I reside comfortably in it, this reliable source,

some food for thought - as reliable as farm to fork.

With a small supply chain that’s sustainable, all local-

a socialist foundation, the workers union are proudly vocal.

They know right from wrong and what is morally just.

That’s my only truth right now

And truth is a must.