Burning bridges

There’s something I’ve got to learn,
I can’t cross bridges that I burn.
The alien waves lapping at feet
In foreign colors like fields of wheat.
Walking alone I must know now
There are natural answers to ‘what’, ‘when’ and ‘how’…
The world is grey and at times green,
Doesn’t help if I refuse to see how things have been.
Community they say…that’s where people belong…
How could I know? An outcast all along….
Square pegs and round holes…or round holes and square pegs?
Rat-a-tat… I’m still as anomalous as cocktail dregs!
There’re some things I just can’t learn…
I still try to cross the bridges that I burn.

There are people they call normal around;
Can you tell me where is the ‘normal’ species found?
I’d get my ticket, get my visa and passport stamped,
I’ll jump on that first jet that comes to the ramp.
Then I’ll come back with a ‘brand’..
I’d be called a return from ‘Normal-land’!
The world feels crazy and upside-down,
Like maids cleaning with their hair and the king sitting on his crown.
Like seas coming to the rivers and not the reverse,
And Gods blessing with bloodshed and curses.
Like the pyramid that stands on its tip,
The pharaohs and mummies, their knuckles white in their grip.

Why are the bridges burnt, you ask?
Because I like to stick to my own task.
Love, appreciation and respect are ‘normal’ to me…
Though jealousy, hatred and killing are all that I can see.
How should I understand the language of the gun?
Why should I accept the color of blood as the color of power?
Were you mis-pronouncing it, or I caught it right,
A war was called so your traders could benefit from selling fright?
Fright wrapped on a bullet or stuffed in a torpedo…
Powdered in cocaine? Ohh what credo!
I’ll burn all the bridges till I can…
So that I can’t cross them nor can another man.
Yes there is something you’ve got to learn…
No one can cross the bridges that I burn.

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