Bulletproof

Written By Glenn McCrary & Matia Theodosakis I am unphased by the snobbish remarks That escape from these strangers mouths Not a single syllable ignites a spark The ignorance I’m able to live without Their words fly like bullets in motion With such a speed I can not list But when these bullets reach me Their power ceases to exist For these bullets have little meaning No pain leaves no scars They can not reach me For I have landed on Mars Still I continue living life Such sentences make no sense For I am bulletproof This shield is my defense My father is painting his walls, now that it’s late. And there’s white on his arms as he reaches And covers the stains of his wife’s old paint With his broken phone and crooked chair - The fences he built high and white like stems. Once he walked too far out, and stumbled On a new nest of quail. He watched them, He watched them long while, and wept. My son is living with the girl he recently met. He’s got his elbows dipped in blue ink And burns the thin letters with cigarettes And that lovely ash settles on his lips. He says to the girl “It matters little, it matters not.” And goes on smoking by the yellow couch. As the young boys on bikes pass by and talk Words thrown quick and forgotten on the dirt. By Glenn McCrary © 2010 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)