The Ordinary Life Of B. Gordon Poem by Kevin Howell

The life of B. Gordon is a sad one
not a glad one
eyes of imagination won't see his dilemna
Light on his face is not a bright sun,
but a dark one, eyes won't look past
his life stigma

B. Gordon is not a tall, proud man
from a moral land
nor a champion of evil's abolition
He doesn't take a grand stand, or opinion grand
saying his silence isn't of own volition

B. Gordon can't be true, or seem new
a sheep in the herd of group conscience
He doesn't act on a feeling or whim,
his eyes are dim
is this controlled sentience?

B. Gordon can't walk into a store, expense he abhores
saying spending is all decadence
Jewelry, perfume, and books are curious gifts
but all myths
all fables end with the moral of just patience

His character is inherently a crime
a most sublime
uninformed is indeed here to stay
of his ignorance it oozes and oozes
any way it chooses
conformity will spread and find a way

B. Gordon doesn't take a bet, his pattern is set
he'll go to the highest bidder
B. Gordon can't be true, or seem new
saying damnation will come to the rebel sinner

B. Gordon looks up at the moon, sweeping swoon!
he thinks he hears a message
The theme is loud and clear, no ignorance to mirror
'B. Gordon, what is the meaning of suffrage? '

'It means equality, and the chance for all
to pursue their call
Your call has not yet been met
in life you must think and grow
horizons to grow
to swim, you must get wet'

'There are things that defy common sense,
accept the consequence
support truth even if bad follows
You must be strong and true
in everything you do,
anything else and life is hollow'

B. Gordon walks down the street, changed it seems
then a man drops a five dollar bill
B. Gordon picks up the note................and quick,
into the pocket of his coat
B. Gordon is forever B. Gordon still