my naive friend and me ..

have this friend
the quintessential naive, i suppose ..

some folk are simply 'ignorant' of this or that
but my friend .. well, they know, in a head way
but simply apparently refuse to accept
they just apparentlly pretend that life ain't as rawly so as it apparently is

that naivete leads to repeat
repeat hurt in them

dumb ..

`|`

so that when this good ol' USofA runs to battle over 'human rights' and lives are the fallout
yet those rights turn out to be the rights to oil or some other dollared state interests in truth ..
and then barely postures when hundreds of thousands run and swim and walk and play animal, trying to find life, trying to save the threatened lives of their o-so-young children ..
..
that's befuddling head-scratching stuff

or like when 'good' people find their religion stands foreboding before them, like some massive giant, arms crossed, forbidding this or that .. like crossing the 'D' line, while their spouse drills holes in their soul, watching themselves leak-out in bloody trails all through their torturechamber home
..
like .. i don't get it

like .... grrrrrrrrrrrr .. preachers with slick slimy tongues coaxing spare $ from the feeble hands of hurting looking-for-hope people, to plant seeds in their personal well-watered gardens
possibly the greatest wicked of all evils

damned naive friend of mine !
..
they assume people can't be that corrupt, that wicked
while all the while bleeding samples lie scattered on the floor of the living room
where they walk
every day
and night
  sometimes more night than day

`|`

my friend has this memory chamber
it's where they store strongboxes, each secured by stronglocks
they have keys
  locked in a strongbox with a stronglock

sometimes they allow themselves to go there
let the keys out
open a box
.. look in

moreoftenthannot they'll soon slam it shut
violently
command the lock to lock
  the key to return to its place
again

i don't know how those boxes got there
why the keys have a life of their own ..

some say my friend has a 'bad memory', but it isn't bad as in dysfunctional so much ..
it's 'bad' because of those damned strongboxes and living keys ..
sometimes apparently it's a lifetool, a survival mechanism, a move-on strategic employ that allows them to take another step, get up another day
in hope

somehow, with all that naivete
those boxes
all those bleeding examples
all that hurt in them
  lying in wait for them to notice again
.. they take another step

`|`

it's that naivete apparently that permits them life
allows them to feel again, afresh
      ` the hopelessness written all over that homeless face
      ` the agony of that stumbling mother clinging desperately to that child as if it was her very own life on the railroad track headed to Whoknowswhere .. leading away .. to ..
      ` the confusion of that little life as the one they trust fondles their soul
      ` the dreadful fear of the youth recognizing they're not 'normal' .. ironically they're sadly gay
      ` the inexplicable penchant of the abused to bear the blame that belongs to the abuser, cutting their wrist with both edges of the same blade
      ` the life-draining realization that the very place you invested your faith .. bared your soul .. stretched upward for God
turns out to be a prison, a dark lonely place where your spirit lies curled-up in the corner,
fed weeviled scraps of 'truth', the stank walls decorated with years of nail-etchings,
long deep descending scores
artfully mocking the god in you
.. nobody deserves that kind of art on their wall

`|`

people
humans
deserve life
we are designed for life, to live
palatable pungent life - vibrant, ecstatic-at-times, energetic, dancing-on-tiptoe, peaceful, nirvanic, fillfulled, colourful, thrilled by every flash of wing, each flutter, the soft rush of the clear blue dashing over the rocks headed to Whoknowshere ..

life
wrapped cherishly in the very life of the divine
spreading out
reaching up
gazing into the beautiful inviting unknown
  'up there'
  inside
where my divine dwells
in longing hope

every single human deserves life
each one
bar not one

`|`
so, ya ..
naivete is part of who my friend is
the part that grabs a clean brush every day, mixes a fresh palette of colour, and looks at the blank canvas in ponder ..

who can i paint today ..

.. i can live with that kinda naivete