Poetic Justice

Hearing the cries is my poetic justice
It is the ghetto beat of the nation
The warm feeling of a family reunion
And the wet love of the golden rain.
The bus ride to camp,
And singing marry tunes all the way home.
A little kid missing his stop off the bus
Because he dozed off on the way
Waking up in tears, he gets off, and walks home.
It is my poetic justice
The sound of cheers from your friends basement,
And the power knocking time to a standstill.
Looking for poetic justice - I look for inspiration
Nothing more, nothing less.
It can be a line on a TV show,
Or a clap of lightening that sparks my vision
It is only through my eyes that I see the world.
It is the one constant variable, that nobody seems to care about.
Just me, my keyboard and monitor.
And the fear of the unknown.
The fear of failure,
And the way I look through your eyes
But what if I stumble and wallow in the rainless doubt?
Will you then be there, waiting at my windowsill?
The silent hum of the motor,
And the breeze rustling through the trees,
The touching line in a story book,
And my impression I made on you,
They are all a part of my poetic justice.

Poem by J.A.D. © 2002