The Dandelion's Manifesto

Some say I'm a downright pest--
Poking my stalk in among the best,
Bouncing around on my own personal breeze,
Enjoying my days as if they were in ease,
Smiling and laughing though the rain will only drown
And the brilliant sun scorches everything brown.
Nothing's going to keep me down.

My exuberant petals spring from the earth
As if I was gifted Slinkies at birth
To propel me to heights I should never reach
'Cause the joy of my soul is a favorite fluid to leech.

I ruin perfect rows of perfectly planned pansies and petunias,
Purple poppies and potatoes and peas that go right through ya.
Where an exact order of beauty is established through selection and mutation,
I creep into the ranks, a new variable for computation.

My stalk's too fat, my leaves curl the wrong way,
My scent's intolerable, my roots have gone gray.
I ruin everything just by existing,
My rights and my desires--everyone's nixing.

Since I am not always self-sustaining and "properly" entertaining,
economical and ecological
with a smile maniacal
as I recite alphabetical
what is right and good and Cosmo-certified to work in 30 days or your money back
Not that it'll get you back on track
With the credit cards
And manicured yards
Botox injections and
Heart infections
Revealing the disease
If you please
Is not curable by the pill
Or by giving "reality" audiences a thrill
Or through donating large sums to charity
(As though dollars ever buy us clarity).

It's healed through tears,
Fighting constant fears,
Ignoring hateful leers,
Stubbornly insisting, "I'm HERE!"
And nothing's gonna keep me down.

So bring on the Weed-B-Gone,
Pour it out from dusk 'til dawn,
Rip up my supports deep in the earth,
Declare my agony's result is stillbirth,
Refuse to allow me to live or exist
As you get high on your powerful twist
Of what you claim is "the way it's gotta be--"
And there is utterly no reason for me
To breathe
To live
To smile
To give

'Cause my life is a hint of something soul-saving sweet,
But with your lack of faith, it'll be a bitter-tasting treat.
My God-given, spirit-pleasin' remedy
Is just what our P.C. world needs:
A little faith, hope, and love,
Truth without the kid gloves,
The kind of power that can conquer America's permanent frown,
Because you can't keep an agape weed like me down.