It Can Still Be A Yellow Sunshine Night Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

At the breaking of the day,
before even the sun
has done its' thing and
erupted in the sky,
the true nature of
our living is so
very clear.

We really are like sheep.
Clustered in our pens and
performing rituals
of conformity.
We are so afraid to be
what we really are inside.

Dance a pretty dance, children
of the world, for
that is what is expected and required.

Perform and conform, be demure
and compliant. Such is the
box we've rushed ourselves
into as we have aged.

Years ago, when school
was the only task we had to do,
we were taught to remain
firmly placed in the
middle of the road.

Don't be extreme!
That was our collective
message delivered faithfully
by mindless drones
who had allowed their
intelligence to be lost.

They were programmed to
be suspicious of differences.

Nothing changes as we age.
If anything, it gets worse.
Jobs and careers,
rules and regulations.

A performance of agreements
we mutter at one another.

Still ashamed to be the pill
that cures the world. We're
much more comfortable being
collected and locked away
inside the pill bottle.

There we stay, surrounded
by all the other little pills.
Safe in our unity of compliance.

It can still be a yellow sunshine
night; a darkness that is suddenly
illuminated by the brilliance
of Independence.

Be free. Be really free.
Speak your disagreements in
loud and aggressive manner.

Say no once in awhile, not maybe.
Refuse to be what you can never be.
Instead, put your head into
the mindset that it is fine
not to always get along.

At the breaking of the day,
before even the sun
has done its' thing and
erupted in the sky,
the true nature of
our living is so
very clear.