Once I knew a queen of beauty
who preferred the life of tramp,
when the navy had us practice
walking through fire and drowning,
I could have told them
I learned that long ago.
Beauty isn’t as easily seen as ugly is,
stolen dreams and bones well broken
is ugly at its very best,
never let them steal your soul;
that is where beauty truly lives.
I knew a man from Biloxi, not far from
New Orleans I’m told, the land of fun streets.
I’ve known guys and gals who walked the mean streets,
Harlem, 8 Mile, Southside, but I’ve heard
the rubber burning down the thunder road.
Do those S curves at 100 mph and
three sheets to the wind and then tell me
about the razor’s edge.
We were young once, but never free,
forever we yearned for that glory road.
Once there was a dancer whose beautiful soul
was entwined with that of a poet. As luck would have it,
they each ran as fast as they could
down roads leading out of town;
never knowing that each were bound for each.
The glory road patiently waited
for their arrival.
I have seen the lies that beauty tells and
I have walked through fire down
the glory road and I know
what beauty is and what
beauty wasn’t.
Mike Carson
11-14-2010
